The Phoenix Burns Brightest
by ErmengardeSecret
Summary: Harry had lived in a lot of different places when he was growing up, but the home he shared with his guardian, Albus Dumbledore, was by far the strangest and most wonderful. He spent most of his time playing in the woods, making friends with snakes that slithered between the trees. They seemed to understand him, which was good, because no people ever visited the house.
1. Chapter 1

The Dursleys insisted that they were both good, respectable people. They did not deserve, they complained, to be interrogated by a whole horde of police officers and social workers. What had happened to their nephew was not their fault.

'It's all just a big misunderstanding,' Mr Dursley blustered. 'We thought he was here, in the house. We didn't even realise he was gone.'

Mrs Dursley was quiet and fidgety, unwilling to comment, but she nodded along with her husband supportively. Her long, thin neck bobbed up and down incessantly, making her look like some sort of mad bird.

'We should have checked on him sooner, of course,' Mr Dursley admitted, throwing up his hands. 'It was a mistake, I know, but we never expected he would run away. He's never done that before.'

The detective, who was heading the interview, nodded sympathetically.

'I can see that it was quite a shock, for both of you,' she said tactfully, 'and I'm sorry to be taking up so much of your time but it's important that we get all the facts. I'm sure you understand that whenever a child this young goes missing, for any length of time, the police take the matter very seriously.'

'But we've already told you everything!' Mr Dursley exclaimed exasperatedly. 'We've gone over and over this with the other officers and that awful woman from Child Protection Services, answering the same questions again and again. Don't you people share notes?'

'Yes,' the detective replied delicately, 'but it's very important we make absolutely sure we know exactly what happened. I'm sure you understand that, Mr Dursley.'

'No, I don't understand,' Mr Dursley responded hotly. 'We've had people traipsing in and out of the house for the last few days, practically tearing the place apart. God knows what the neighbours think.'

'Mr Dursley,' the detective leant in slowly and looked man straight in the eyes. 'This is a very serious matter. Your nephew went missing for over twenty-four hours. Anything could have happened to him.'

'Yes, but it didn't!' Mr Dursley protested. 'He came back home, safe and sound, didn't he? Thank God.'

This last exclamation was added, hastily, as if he realised that he was coming off too rough or defensive. His face flushed bright red and his hands twisted into fists.

'We're all very relieved that Harry got back home safely,' the detective said quietly, 'but we both know that the situation could have been much, much worse. Small children alone on the streets are very vulnerable. He could have been involved in an accident, seriously injured or even killed. He could easily have been assaulted or kidnapped.'

The room fell silent for a moment while everyone considered these bleak possibilities. Mrs Dursley moved a little closer to her husband and he placed one meaty hand on her shoulder.

Mr Dursley cleared his throat. 'Don't you think you're blowing the matter a little out of proportion,' he asked. 'I mean, children run away all the time, don't they?'

'Actually it's quite rare for a child this young to run away,' the detective said calmly. 'It usually suggests that there's something wrong at home.'

There was another uncomfortable silence. Mr Dursley's face went from bright red to white in the space of a few seconds.

'Why don't we start again, from the beginning,' the detective suggested. 'What time did you realise that your nephew was missing.'

Mr Dursley took a moment to clear his throat.

'It was around eight in the morning on Saturday. We went to fetch him for breakfast and found out he wasn't there.'

The detective nodded encouragingly. 'And when did you call the police.'

'Around ten.'

The detective nodded again. 'And why did it take you so long to you call the police? Almost two hours?'

'We searched the house first,' Mrs Dursley said shrilly. 'Then we called all our friends and neighbours, asking if anyone had seen him.'

'We didn't think he could have gotten far,' Mr Dursley added defensively. 'We thought he must have wandered down the road or into someone else's garden. Dudley's done that a few times, the little tyke.'

'But he was found quite far away, wasn't he?' The detective said, her lips twisting to a strained little smile. 'Wembley. Any idea how your four-year-old nephew managed to travel over thirty miles away in the space of a few hours?'

'Maybe he hitch-hiked?' Mr Dursley suggested. He let out a false little laugh, too high and strained to be natural.

The rest of the room remained deadly silent. The police officers all exchanged disbelieving glances, their eyebrows raised high.

'Really,' Mr Dursley said, clearing his throat. 'I have no idea how he travelled so far.'

'Obviously were still worried that someone may have taken him,' the detective said slowly. 'Is it possible that anyone could have come into the house during the night and taken him away?'

'Absolutely not!' Mr Dursley replied fiercely. 'We've got the latest burglar alarm system. There's censors all around the house. If so much as a cat walks by it sets them off.'

'When did you last see your nephew, before he disappeared?' The detective pressed. 'Did you look in on him, before you went to bed?'

'No,' Mr Dursley said, gruffly. 'We'd sent him to bed early for misbehaving.'

'And what time was that?'

Mr Dursley exchanged a quick look with his wife. They suddenly looked very tense and nervous.

'I suppose around four or five,' Mr Dursley said slowly.

The detective frowned deeply, little wrinkles creasing her brow.

'And you didn't check in on him after that?' She asked. 'What about for dinner? Had he already eaten?'

At this, the Dursleys became even more tense and uncomfortable. Mrs Dursley's mouth withdrew into a line so tight that it might have been drawn on with a biro.

'He wasn't getting any dinner,' Mr Dursley said quietly. 'We'd sent him to bed early, without any dinner. It was part of his punishment.'

'He'd eaten earlier that day,' Mrs Dursley said quickly. 'He'd had a big lunch and a snack so it wasn't as if he was really going hungry.'

Once again, her voice was very shrill.

'Did you often send your nephew to bed this early, without food, and leave him alone for the rest of the night?' The detective asked.

'No,' Mrs Dursley hissed. 'Of course not.'

'Look, I was sent to bed early dozens of times when I was a child and it never did me any harm!' Mr Dursley exclaimed. 'It's a perfectly normal form of punishment or it used to be, before all these namby-pamby ideas about child-rearing came in. It was far worse in my day, I assure you.'

'Vernon, please!' Mrs Dursley hissed, but apparently her husband had worked himself too much to stop now.

'I've done everything I can to care and protect my family and I object to being treated like a criminal and subjected to questioning in my own damn home. Now I made a mistake and I'm man enough to admit that. I should have checked in the boy earlier but you must see that I could never have expected him to get out!'

A silence far heavier and more unpleasant than any that had come before greeted this pronouncement. The detective moved right to the edge of her seat, leaning over towards the couple.

'Get out?' she repeated softly.

The words hung in air for a few moments.

'Mr Dursley, are you saying that you lock your four-year-old nephew in?'

When all the police had gone and the boys had both been sent to bed Mr and Mrs Dursley stayed up together to talk.

'It will be alright,' Mr Dursley assured his wife. 'Kids run off all the time. They're mad, wilful little monsters and that boy's the worst of them. I'm damned if I know how he got out of that cupboard but they found him alright and brought him home.'

Mrs Dursley shook her head slowly. Her hands twisted in her lap. Long bony fingers toyed with the buttons on her cardigan, spinning them round and round.

'He was alone with the social worker for a long time, Vernon.' She murmured. 'What do you think he told her?'

'He wouldn't have said anything,' Mr Dursley said gruffly. He knows better than to go around telling tales. Besides, he's only four years old. No one's going to listen to him.'

'But what if he tells them where he was sleeping,' Mrs Dursley pressed. 'You know what they'll think about that.'

They had emptied out the cupboard before they called the police, carefully clearing away any traces that a small child had been kept in there, but they were still worried that they had forgotten something.

'I set him up in the spare room tonight,' Mr Dursley told her. 'The bed's all made up and there's toys on the shelves. It looks like he's been in there all along.'

He reached out and wrapped an arm around his wife shoulders.

'It will be alright,' he said again.

But Mrs Dursley wasn't convinced. She gave her husband a desperate, frightened look.

'What if they say it's abuse?' She whispered. 'What if they say we're unfit parents and can't be trusted with children?'

'Petunia!' Mr Dursley exclaimed with a forced little laugh. 'You're letting your imagination run away with you! There's no reason for them to take things any further.'

He tried to take her hand, to calm her down, but she shrank away from him.

'They won't just let it go though, Vernon,' she hissed. 'They'll be back again, asking more questions. Setting all the neighbours whispering. God knows what they've been saying about us.'

'They know what's being going on, Petunia,' he said soothingly. 'They know that Harry went missing. I'm sure they're just concerned. We can go round tomorrow, if you like, to let them know he's back. We'll thank them for all their help and smooth things over nicely.'

Mrs Dursley looked up at him uncertainly. She was chewing at her bottom lip like a small, anxious child. She had never looked more weak and pathetic.

'What if they try and take Dudley away?' She whispered. 'What if they say he's not safe here?'

'No one is taking our boy away,' Mr Dursley said fiercely. 'I would never, ever let that happen, petunia. If they came after us we'd just hire the best lawyers in the country. We'd crush them.'

He let out a mad little laugh. 'Take our little boy away from us? I'd like to see them try!'

Mrs Dursley swallowed. 'And Harry?' She said tentatively. 'What if they tried to take him into care?'

'I won't let anyone anywhere near our family,' Mr Dursley said decisively. 'You think I'm going to let Social Services make a fool out of me? You think I'm going to let them come in here and treat us like criminals?'

At last, Mrs Dursley was starting to look a little more reassured.

'I suppose they don't have any evidence of anything, do they?' She said, more to herself than to her husband. 'I mean, the only thing that's really suspicious is how far away he travelled. And that wasn't anything to do with us. We were doing everything we could to keep him in the house.'

'That boy,' Mr Dursley said, bracingly. 'He did that all by himself. He got himself out of that cupboard and miles away before we had any idea. The little devil. We won't let it happen again though. We'll keep a much closer eye on him from now on.'

He was relaxing now into one of his more familiar subjects. He spent a few pleasant moments complaining about his nephew and making fresh resolutions to keep him in line.

Mrs Dursley nodded but there was still the slightest flicker of doubt behind her eyes.

'And I don't imagine that ... well, that any of ... the other lot would hear about this?'

Mr Dursley stopped short. 'You mean ... his lot?'

His wife nodded.

'No,' he blustered. 'No, of course not. How could they? It's not as if they talk to the policemen or social services, is it?'

'No,' Mrs Dursley agreed. 'No, I don't see how they could. I just wondered ... what would happen if they did hear that he'd gone missing? What if one of them came here to ask questions too?'

This thought was almost too terrible to contemplate. It took Mr Dursley some time to respond to his wife and when he finally did he found that all the confidence had left his voice.

'No,' he murmured feebly. 'No, they wouldn't come here now. They couldn't'

He was wrong, of course.


	2. Chapter 2

It was several weeks later when Professor Albus Dumbledore knocked on the door of Number Four, Privet Drive. By then, the Dursley's had decided that the trouble was all over and were beginning to relax again.

Mrs Dursley was smiling when she came to the door. She was expecting a visit from one of her neighbours, Mrs Stevens, who had borrowed her best casserole dish over a week ago. Mrs Dursley had been dropping hints every time she saw that she needed it returned and Mrs Stevens had said she might stop over around eight. When Mrs Dursley saw the tall, silver-haired gentleman standing on her doorstep the smile slid off her face, like butter on a hot knife.

Albus Dumbledore was dressed in a three piece suit with a white shirt and a wool overcoat. While each of these garments was conventional, the colour and patterns used made them extraordinary. The suit was a bright emerald green with golden embroidery and a gold chain hung from the buttonhole to an antique pocket watch. The coat was a darker shade of green and also accented with gold details.

Mrs Dursley's eyes danced over the man's clothes with mounting horror before lighting on his face. In addition to the professor's eccentric clothing he had long silver hair and a beard, both of which hung down to his waist. His eyes were a bright electric blue that glittered, brightly, behind a pair of half-moon glasses. He was smiling, politely, but there was an intensity to his stare that made Mrs Dursley shrink back into the doorway.

'Good evening,' Albus said. 'I assume that you are Mrs Petunia Dursley?'

Mrs Dursley hesitated for a moment. Her hand trembled against the edge of the door, as if she was considering slamming it shut but thought better of it.

'Yes,' she said quietly.

Albus inclined his head. 'My name is Professor Albus Dumbledore. We have never met, in person, but I am sure you will remember my name. I wrote you a letter three years ago.'

Mrs Dursley went very pale. She didn't move or speak for several seconds, during which time Albus continued to smile pleasantly and glance about himself with interest.

'I think,' he said eventually, when it became apparent that Mrs Dursley was not going to recover the power of speech. 'That we should go inside. I have something quite important to discuss with you and it would be better to do so in private.'

'This isn't a good time,' she squeaked, desperately.

Professor Dumbledore sighed. 'It never is,' he said sadly, 'but we must make the best of it.'

Mrs Dursley didn't want to let him in but when he stepped towards her she jumped aside instinctually. He moved past her in an instant and she was forced to shut the door and follow him.

Mr Dursley was sitting on the sofa and watching the news. He didn't look up as Professor Dumbledore entered the room but called out his wife.

'The prime minster of India's been assassinated,' he told her. 'Bloody uncivilised country. Can't keep anything under control.'

Mrs Dursley crept in behind Professor Dumbledore and cleared her throat.

'Vernon?'

Mr Dursley glanced up at them. When he saw Albus Dumbledore standing there, in his bright green suit, his face went white.

'Good evening,' Albus said again. 'You must be Mr Dursley. My name is Professor Albus Dumbledore. I'm sorry to drop by unexpected but I'm afraid I have something very important to discuss with you. It's regarding your nephew, Harry.'

This seemed to confirm Mr Dursley's worst fears. He went, if possible, even whiter. It looked like all the colour was draining from his body. It made him look all the more paler and insubstantial next to the bright, vibrant stranger.

'Do you mind if we have a little silence?' Albus asked. He waved his wand towards the TV and the screen went black. 'We have a lot to talk about and it would be best if we have no distractions.'

Mr Dursley gaped at him. Mrs Dursley lingered uncertainly by the doorway.

'We ought to all sit down and make ourselves comfortable,' Albus said, taking a seat in the armchair. He nodded at Mrs Dursley. 'Please, will you take a seat, Petunia?'

Mrs Dursley sank down onto the sofa, beside her husband.

'Now, I'm sure you must have some idea about why I'm here today,' Albus said. 'I understand that Harry went missing a few weeks ago.'

Mrs Dursley swallowed. 'He was only gone for a day,' she said weakly. 'Then the police brought him back. He was alright.'

'And how did this happen?' Albus asked.

Mrs Dursley looked at her hands. 'I don't know what happened.' She said quietly. 'I don't know how he got out. I assumed that he ... did it ... with his,' she waved one hand vaguely. 'You know.'

Albus nodded. 'I believe that Harry may have indeed used magic to run away,' he said. 'It's very rare for children this young to be able to use magic but sometimes, under extreme circumstances, they've been known to do so. It's usually when they're in serious danger. It's a survival mechanism, you understand.'

There was another brief, uncomfortable silence. Neither of the Dursleys seemed able to meet his eyes.

'Look,' Mr Dursley said eventually. 'It was a nasty business, I agree, but it's all settled now. I don't know we need to go over it all again.'

'I'm afraid the situation was far more serious than you may have realised,' Albus said softly. 'Social Services were actually planning to remove both children from your care and place them in a foster home. They had already selected a group home a couple of miles away from here and were making the arrangements when we intervened.'

Mrs Dursley gasped. She raised one hand to her mouth and started to shake uncontrollably. In contrast, Mr Dursley went very pale and stiff as if he'd just been transformed into a marble statue.

'You stopped them though,' Mr Dursley said hoarsely. 'You stopped them from taking our son away.'

The professor gave him a very cold look. 'We had to. We cannot allow Harry to be moved to another home. He would not be protected there, as he has been with you. What's more, that magical protection that has been granted to him, as long as he lives with his blood relatives, would be broken forever. So even if he returned to live with you in the future he would still be vulnerable.'

'So you stopped them,' Mr Dursley repeated, apparently still unable to comprehend this fact.

'Yes,' Albus replied. 'But now am I faced with a problem. While Harry is magically protected here, from ambush or attack, he is not necessarily safe. In fact, he has been found to be categorically unsafe by your protective services. This is an unsafe home.'

Mrs Dursley gulped like a fish and Mr Dursley patted her on the shoulder.

'I don't know what you've been told,' he said, 'but we've never laid a finger on that child. He's been as safe here as he would anywhere.'

Albus was quiet for a moment. His expression remained calm and thoughtful but his bright blue eyes seemed to grow colder.

'I believe that,' he said quietly. 'I do not believe that you have ever hit, slapped or beaten him or ever put his life at risk. However, you have not cared for him as I asked him to. You have not treated him like your own child. You have neglected and mistreated him.'

Mr Dursley made a noise in the back of his throat, as if he meant to argue, but at one look from Dumbledore silenced again.

'You have only given Harry only the barest essentials needed to survive and some of those only grudgingly. You have denied him food, whenever it suited you, and locked him up whenever he became troublesome. You have treated him more like a dog than a human being, except most people would treat a dog quite a bit better.'

A terrible chill seemed to emirate from the professor as he spoke and Mr and Mrs Dursley huddled closer together. They looked scared and shaken, like survivors from a shipwreck.

'So,' Albus continued, 'I must consider whether Harry can be allowed to continue to live here, under those conditions. If not, there are a couple of other options. I could place him with a powerful wizarding family or I could hide him with another muggle family, somewhere where he is unlikely to be found, but neither of these options would provide him with same level of magical protection. Unfortunately I am forced to admit that your home remains the safest place for Harry. So the question I must ask you now is this: can you do better?'

Mr Dursley gaped at the professor for a second and then turned to his wife. Mrs Dursley's face was all screwed up, as if she was in intense pain and she was chewing at her bottom lip again.

'Yes,' she said quietly. 'We can. We will.'

Albus nodded thoughtfully. 'I should like to believe that. Your sister sacrificed her life for that child. It seems remarkable that you, on the other hand, cannot even sacrifice a bedroom.'

'I will do better,' Mrs Dursley repeated hoarsely. 'I will.'

Albus rose from his seat. 'I want to talk to Harry before I make my decision. ' He said. 'Will you take me to him please?'

'He's in bed now,' Mr Dursley said gruffly. 'He'll be asleep.'

'Well then, I shall have to wake him,' Albus said sadly. 'I'm afraid this cannot wait until morning.'

After another quick glance at his wife Mr Dursley got up and escorted the professor out of the room. He took him up the stairs and nervously showed him to the bedroom.

'He's in here,' he said quietly.

Albus did not knock. He simply let himself in and then closed the door behind him. He did not allow Mr Dursley time to follow him. He wanted to speak to Harry quite alone.

He found the boy fast asleep and, rather than waking him suddenly, he decided to cast a spell to allow him to wake up naturally. Then he sat down at the foot of the bed and waited for it to take affect. Slowly, Harry's eyes opened and he peered up blearily at the stranger.

'Hello Harry,' Albus said softly.

'Hello,' Harry mumbled. He blinked uncertainly for a few seconds and then asked, 'Are you real?'

'Yes,' Albus replied, with a smile. 'My name is Albus Dumbledore.'

'I'm Harry,' Harry said.

'I know,' Albus replied.

'I'm four,' Harry said.

'I know,' Albus replied.

Harry blinked a few more times and yawned.

'What are you doing here?' He asked.

'I'm here to talk to you,' Albus told him. 'I want to ask you about the day you disappeared.'

'I didn't mean to do it,' Harry said quickly.

'I know,' Albus said.

'I just wanted to get away,' Harry said.

Albus nodded understandingly.

"Sometimes when you really want something to happen it just does. It used to happen to me too, when I was a child.'

Harry stared at him, wide-eyed. 'Really?'

'Yes,' Albus replied. 'Could you tell me where you were before you disappeared?'

'At home,' Harry said guardedly.

'Where at home?'

Harry hesitated. 'In the cupboard.'

'Were you trapped in there?' Albus asked. 'Is that why you wanted to get out so badly?'

Harry nodded slowly. 'It was locked,' he said.

'I think you must have been very scared and unhappy to make yourself disappear like that,' Albus said. 'It's very hard to do that, when you're so small, so I think you must have really wanted it.'

'Yes,' Harry agreed. 'I just really, really wanted to get away. Then I was.'

Albus leant in a little closer, still smiling encouragingly at the little boy.

'I've just had a talk with your aunt and uncle. I've told them that they ought to be a lot nicer to you and they've said that they're going to try. Do you think they'll be able to do that?'

Harry considered. 'I don't sleep in the cupboard anymore.' He said. 'I sleep here now.'

'Yes and that's much better,' Albus said, 'but do you think they'll be able to be nicer to you as well? Do you think they'll say nice things to you and buy you nice things?'

No,' Harry said bluntly. 'They don't like me.'

Albus nodded sadly. 'I'm afraid you're right about that. Do you know why that is?'

'I'm not their son,' Harry said simply. 'They don't want me here.'

'Whose son are you?' Dumbledore asked.

'No one's,' Harry told him. 'My parents are dead.'

Albus nodded again. 'If you could go and live with another family would you want to do that?'

Harry eyes lit up. 'Yes,' he exclaimed. 'Yes, please!' He scooted down the bed towards Albus, staring up at him with wonder. 'Are you really real?' He asked, reaching out to touch him.

'Yes,' Albus replied, with another smile. 'I'm real. You can feel me here, can't you?'

Harry pressed his palm flat against Albus's chest. 'Will you take me away to another family?' He asked eagerly. 'Please. I promise to be good.'

Albus could feel an awful ache in his heart, just where Harry was touching.

'Yes,' he said softly, 'if that is what you want.'

Harry's face crumpled. 'Promise you're real,' he begged, in a quavering voice.

'I promise,' Albus said. Seeing that the boy was about to cry he searched for a distraction.

'Why don't you start packing your things now?' He suggested. 'I can take you away tonight, if you like? You don't have to stay here if you don't want to.'

Harry jumped up excitedly. 'I don't need anything,' he said. 'Can we go now, please!'

'Why don't you at least pack a change of clothes?'

Albus flicked his wand and a backpack appeared on the bed. Harry picked it eagerly, without questioning where it had come from. He moved quickly, pulling out clothes from the nearby chest of drawers. They were all a little too large for him and the colours were faded, as if they'd been washed too many times.

'Is there anything else you'd like to take?' Albus asked. 'You don't need to rush.'

Harry considered and then came back over to the bed. He knelt down beside it and pulled out a small metal tin from underneath.

'Just this,' he said. 'This is mine.'

'May I see?' Albus asked curiously.

Harry handed it over and Albus carefully praised it off the lid. He was expecting to find a collection of trading cards, or stamps, or small plastic toys. Instead he found several buttons, of varying colours and sizes, a rusty old key and a couple of long, frayed pieces of string. He stared down at the collection of small, scavenged items in silence for several seconds, his heart pounding in his chest.

He understood what he was looking at. It was a collection of things so dirty, broken and utterly unwanted that Harry could keep them without worrying that anyone would try to take them from him. Albus glanced around the room, for a moment, taking in all the books and toys, and felt a fresh wave of anger wash over him.

'What about one of these toys?' He said quietly, gesturing around the room. 'Why don't you take one of these?' He spoke calmly, keeping the fury out of his voice.

'They're Dudley's,' Harry said simply.

'Well, I think you can take at least one thing,' Albus told him, 'as you're leaving.'

Harry looked uncertain. 'No, it's okay.' He said.

'Very well,' Albus said. 'You might want a jumper as well. You can pull it on now and then we'll get your coat and shoes and you'll be ready to travel.'

It did not take long. A few minutes later Albus Dumbledore was escorting Harry downstairs to say goodbye to his aunt and uncle forever.


	3. Chapter 3

_Dear Minerva,_

 _I am so sorry to hear of the trouble that my sudden departure has caused within the school. Please accept my apologies for not updating you sooner; I did not want to worry you until I had made my final decision._

 _I have written to the board to explain the situation and to recommend Ursula Sheridan as my replacement. Providing my sabbatical is approved, I hope to return to Hogwarts in seven years time. If possible, I would like to travel up with Harry before the start of term and expect to arrive on 1st July 1991._

 _As so often happens, I find myself in the unenviable position of admitting that I was in the wrong about something, while you were in the right. You warned me that Mr and Mrs Dursley would not prove adequate guardians for a boy like Harry Potter, but I did not listen. I knew that their home would provide a safe place for Harry, away from the dangers and pressures of the Wizarding World, and I hoped that they would come to care for him, in time. As it turns out, I was mistaken._

 _I know that you also consider my decision to raise Harry myself a mistake, but I hope that in this case I am the one in the right. I can assure you that I have considered the matter quite carefully. I had thought of placing Harry with a magical family, as you have suggested, but I don't believe that anyone else would be able to provide Harry with adequate protection._

 _The Gillians were my first choice, as both Nerissa and Daniel are retired aurors and already have two children, aged six and seven. However the Gillian's have accumulated many enemies in their time and have only recently been subject to an attack. It is likely that placing Harry with them would make him even likely to be targeted than he already is._

 _I also considered the Wades as they are a particularly capable, trustworthy couple. Caspar has an excellent position in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and Leanna works as a healer for St Mungo's. You may also recall that their youngest son, Cato, was killed five years ago, so I think they would be especially welcoming to a young boy who was orphaned by Lord Voldemort. However the Wades too, would be vulnerable to attack, and far less likely to be able to defend themselves successfully._

 _Harry requires a guardian who is not only strong enough to protect him but unlikely to be challenged those dark witches and wizards who are currently at large. I flatter myself by suggesting that I am one of the most powerful wizards of this generation and therefore more capable than anyone else of protecting Harry from harm._

 _More importantly, I am probably the one of the few people that Lord Voldemort has ever actively avoided, which makes it far less likely that any of his supporters would seek me out._

 _Besides this, I care for the child. I want to be the one who looks after him._

 _I intend to find a safe, secluded location to raise Harry. It is likely that I will fortify and hide the house from detection but I will let you how you may find me._

 _I am, yours most sincerely,  
Albus Dumbledore_

Their first home was in Oxford. Albus had taken the house over from one of his friends, Harriet Holmes, who was currently out of the country studying a tribe of mermaids. Harriet was happy to for Albus to and only asked that kept an eye on her garden and stop the keratchula plant from eating the neighbour's cat.

Harriet had inherited the house from her parents, who were muggles, so it was relatively normal two-story terrace house. Like it's neighbours, it had tall windows with stained glass and jutting gables with dusty grey tiles. The inside though was quite a bit larger than one would expect and there was a magnificent fireplace at the heart of the living room.

On the way there Albus played a game with Harry. He asked him to imagine what his bedroom would be like and listened as the boy made suggestion after suggestion.

'What about the furniture?' Albus asked. 'Will there be a big, squishy armchair, do you think? Or a cosy window seat?'

'A window seat?' Harry guessed.

'What else could there be?' Albus asked. 'Remember, this is the most wonderful bedroom in the world.'

'A hammock?' Harry guessed.

'To sleep in?' Albus asked.

'No, just to swing in,' Harry said. 'There'd be a huge bed to sleep in with loads of pillows and cuddly toys.'

'What kind of toys do you think there are? Albus asked. 'What are the best toys in the world?'

'A giant teddy bear,' Harry said, 'so big it fills the room. And a big castle with knights and guns. And a train set that really works.'

Albus listened carefully and by the time the arrived at the house he had already made sure that the bedroom contained everything that Harry had wanted most.

When he led Harry in the little boy's eyes went so wide it looked like they were about to pop out of his head.

'You guessed right,' Albus said, his eyes twinkling.

The first few days were difficult.

Albus wasn't sure how to behave around Harry. He was used to dealing with children, having taught at Hogwarts for nearly forty years, and been a headmaster for nineteen, but he had never had to act as a parent before and didn't know what was needed by a child so young.

He knew that most four-year-olds needed help with everyday tasks and he hesitated, whenever he asked Harry to do something, wondering whether he ought to reach out and help him. Harry was not a normal four-year-old though. He wasn't used to anyone caring for him. His aunt and uncle had never washed his hair or helped him dress or even picked him up when he fell down. He had learned to do things by himself.

So Albus felt awkward about touching Harry. He thought about taking Harry's hand, when they were walking together, but he could see that it wasn't necessary or expected. Harry was capable of walking by himself without tripping or stumbling and he never tried to run off.

When Albus first told Harry to take a bath Harry had gone into the bathroom by himself and locked the door behind him. Albus, who had followed him upstairs, dithered uncertainly outside.

'Leave the door open a little,' he called through to him. 'Just in case.'

Once the door was propped open Albus started heading dowstairs but once again, he hesitated. He still felt unsure whether it was right to leave Harry unsupervised. He knew it was what Harry was used to, but he wasn't sure that it was right.

He sat down at the top of the stairs and watched Harry as he moved clumsily around the bathroom. He flicked his wand towards the taps to stop the water getting too hot and slid the bathmat under Harry's feet so that he didn't slip. While Harry was rinsing his hair out he draped a large, thick towel over the side of the bath so that it was ready for him when he reached for it.

Harry took a very long time in the bath. So long that Albus had to call out to him and command him to get out. Like all small children, he seemed to be of the opinion that he never, ever, ever wanted to be in the bath. Right up until the moment he got in. Then he abruptly decided that he never, ever, ever wanted to get out.

Harry also took a long time getting ready for bed. He was able to dress and undress himself but he seemed content to wriggle himself into trousers one inch at a time and struggled with buttons. Albus was beginning to suspect that he needed glasses from the way he squinted down at his hands.

Albus continued to watch him from the top of the stairs, waiting patiently as Harry wrestled with his Panamas and packed his clothes away in the laundry hamper. Harry did not get into bed once he was changed but wondered absently around the room. He was still in wonder of his new bedroom and kept gazing and touching at all the soft toys. Once he'd completed a couple of circuits he turned his attention to the train set and sat down on the floor to play with it.

Albus waited a couple of minutes and then called out to Harry again.

'Are you in bed?' He demanded.

'Yes,' Harry lied.

'I'll be up in a moment to tell you a bedtime story,' Albus told him.

This did the trick. Harry hastily dropped the train and scrambled up into the bed. Albus waited until he was settled and then followed him into the bedroom.

'Are you ready for your story?' He asked.

'Yes,' Harry replied.

Albus smiled at him and took a seat at the foot of the bed.

'I'll tell you one of my favourites from when I was your age,' he said softly. 'It's called The Fountain Of Fair Fortune.'

He didn't have a copy of the book but he remembered it well enough to recite it exactly. An uncanny ability to recall everything he had ever read was one of Albus's special gifts.

'Did you like that?' Albus asked, once the story was done.

Harry nodded.

'Tomorrow I'll take you to the bookshop,' Albus told him, 'and you can pick out some books for yourself. Does that sound good?'

Harry nodded again.

Albus smiled, straightened the covers and wished Harry goodnight. Once again, he thought about tucking him in properly and hugging him tight, but felt unable to initiate contact.

He switched off the lights and left Harry to his dreams.

Albus felt most at ease when he was surrounded by books. Books were his comfort, his refuge and his salvation. If ever he felt uncertain about anything it was his instinct to reach for a book. So it was quite natural that he would consider a visit to a bookshop the perfect choice for his first outing with Harry.

There were dozens of bookshops in the fashionable areas of Oxford. Most were antiquarian bookshops, filled with the sort of crumbling, sweet-scented books that Albus Liked best, but he knew these would hold little apleal .for a small child. Instead he chose to take Harry to a children's bookshop that was filled to brim with new, brightly-coloured books.

Harry took to the place immediately and spent ages just walking round and round the shelves peering closely at the covers. He picked up book after book, flicking through them and squinting at the pictures, agonising over which one to get. He kept apologising for taking so long, unaware that Albus would have been willing to wait all day. He was so glad that Harry was enjoying himself.

'You can have more than one if you want,' Albus told him. 'You can have at least three of the picture books and one or two larger books. They won't take long to read.'

'Really?' Harry asked him. His face was shining with excitement. 'Could I maybe have all of these?'

He gestured at his small pile of favourites.  
Albus smiled. 'Yes, if you want them all.'

They gathered up the books and Albus took them to the till. Harry watched, open-mouthed, as Albus paid, as if it was the most unbelievable thing he'd ever seen.

When they were outside Harry turned to Albus and, quite unexpectedly, threw his arms around his legs.

'Thank you,' he said.

Albus was still for just a second before he sunk to his knees and wrapped his arms around Harry. He held him tight for several seconds before pulling away gently and rising from the ground. Then he picked up the bag in one hand and took Harry's hand in the other.

After that, Albus wrapped a towel around Harry whe he got out of the bath and helped him to dry his hair. He tucked him into bed properly hugged him tight before leaving the room. And he he held his hand, whenever they went out together, even though he didn't need to.


	4. Chapter 4

After the trip to the bookshop Harry changed dramatically. It was as if some sort of switch had been flipped inside him. Where he had previously been quiet, distant and self-sufficient he was suddenly very clingy and desperate for attention.

It worried Albus. Before Harry had acted like a much older child, doing things by himself and never asking for help. Now he was behaving more like a toddler, unwilling to leave Albus's side for more than a minute at a time. He also talked incessantly, assaulting his guardian with an endless barrage of questions.

'How old are you? Are your parents still alive? Do you have any brothers and sisters?'

One question after another, with barely a breath between them. Albus tried to answer each one in order but found this difficult because Harry kept interrupting him to ask more.

'I'm a hundred and four,' He told Harry. 'My parents -'

'That's so old!' Harry exclaimed. 'When's your birthday?'

'The twenty-eighth of August,' Albus replied. 'My parents are both dead, unfortunately.'

'Did they die when you were young or old?'

'They died when I was young,' Albus said. 'My father died when I was eleven and my mother died just after I turned eighteen.'

'How did they die?' Harry continued relentlessly. 'Was it some sort of accident?'

Albus had to pause for a moment to work out how to phrase his answer. He didn't want to lie to Harry but the circumstances of his parents death were very complicated, not to mention painful. Thankfully Harry didn't try and fill the brief moment of silence with yet another question.

'My mother died in an accident,' He said eventually, 'while I was at school. My father died from an illness. He went away somewhere quite dangerous, got sick there and died before he could come home.'

'I'm sorry,' Harry said. 'Do you remember them much?'

'Yes, I remember them quite well although they all died a long time ago.'

Albus decided to press on quickly and get through all the other uncomfortable questions.

'I used to have a little sister but she died too,' he told Harry, 'when she was fourteen. I have one brother who's still alive. He's my only living relative.'

'Is your brother as old as you?' Harry asked.

'A year younger,' Albus said, with a strained little smile. 'He would be one hundred and three now.'

'Does he -'

'I think that's enough questions for now,' Albus said gently.

Harry blinked. 'Why?' Another question.

'Well, we don't want to run out of them,' Albus replied teasingly. 'We should save some for tomorrow, at least. We have plenty of time to get to know each other.'

He felt he had to be firm with Harry otherwise they would be at it all day. Harry was obviously thrilled to have someone finally paying attention to him but he also seemed terrified that they might lose interest at any second.

It would be some time before Harry learned that Albus wasn't going to just disappear if he took his eyes off him for too long. Until then, Albus would probably have to force Harry to spend time alone.

The Oxford house had a good-sized study that Albus had claimed as his own and he quickly established the rule that whenever the door was closed he was not to be disturbed.

'I've got a lot of work to do,' he told Harry, 'so I'll be in my study for most of the day. You'll need to entertain yourself during that time.'

'What am I supposed to do?' Harry demanded incredulously.

'You can do whatever you like,' Albus replied, 'as long as you stay in the house or the garden. You have plenty of toys to play with and I'm sure you can come up with some interesting games to pass the time.'

Harry seemed unconvinced. 'I don't want to play by myself,' he complained. 'Why won't you play with me?'

'Because I am a very boring old man,' Albus said wryly. 'Besides, didn't you play by yourself at your aunt and uncle's house?'

'Yes, but I didn't like it!' Harry exclaimed hotly. 'I want you to play with me! And you're not a boring old man! That's just an excuse!'

'I _am_ a very boring old man,' Albus said seriously, 'and I have a lot of very dull, boring work to attend to.'

'What sort of work?' Harry demanded suspiciously.

He seemed to have already worked-out that Albus Dumbledore was a strange and powerful man and assumed that any work he was involved in must be equally remarkable.

'Mostly reading books, articles and essays,' Albus told him. 'Nothing that you would find interesting.'

'Can't I just sit with you while you read?' Harry asked unhappily. 'I won't be in your way. I won't even talk if you won't want me to.'

Albus found it remarkable that Harry would rather sit silently in an office with him than play in a room full of toys by himself. It spoke volumes about how lonely he was.

'No, I'm sorry,' Albus said. 'I need to be alone sometimes without any distractions, so that I can work properly.'

When will I see you, though?' Harry asked miserably.

'We'll sit together in the evenings,' Albus promised him, 'After dinner until bedtime. We'll read together and talk and play games then.'

Harry eyed him uncertainly. 'All evening?' He asked suspiciously.

'Yes,' Albus assured him, 'and we'll have breakfast, lunch and dinner together too.'

Albus quickly drafted a schedule for Harry with set times for meals, chores and activities. It was naturally modelled on the Hogwarts timetable, with breakfast at half-seven, lunch at twelve and dinner at five, but the bulk of the day was left free for play.

Albus also modelled their meals on what was served at Hogwarts, although the food he prepared obviously couldn't compare to what team of experienced house-elves produced. His skill in transfiguration allowed him to create meals that were of a reasonable quality and he learnt to adjust the dishes to suit Harry's tastes through trial and error.

Albus worked hard to conceal the fact that he was using magic when cooking, even going so far as to lay out all the ingredients in the kitchen and inviting Harry to help him prepare them. This also gave them something else to do together and helped make mealtimes a bigger, more exciting activity.

At first, Albus only gave Harry very simple tasks like cracking several eggs into a bowl or opening tins and emoting their contents into saucepans, but none of these jobs took that long and didn't take much effort either so he decided to take it up a notch.

'We'll have a full roast dinner tonight,' he announced one day, 'and you can peel and chop all the vegetables for me. Then we'll put them in the oven to roast.'

He demonstrated first, stripping-down and slicing-up a carrot, and then handed Harry the knife. Harry handled it clumsily, as expected for such a small child, and Albus had to reach over a couple of times to correct his grip and move his fingers out of the way, but he managed to get the hang of it eventually.

Albus knew that most muggles would not let a four-year-old handle a knife but he didn't think it was that dangerous an activity, under supervision. He supposed that, like all wizards, he had developed a rather cavalier attitude to injuries. When broken bones can be fixed with the flick of a wand it's easy to become careless.

A muggle parent would have to worry about their child inadvertently slicing off one of their fingers or stabbing themselves in the face. Any accident, no matter how small, would mean permanent damage. Eyeballs could not be popped back into their sockets and scars could not be smoothed over. For muggles, it simply wasn't worth the risk.

'You've done really well,' Albus told Harry, once he had finished with the carrots.

'Not really,' Harry replied sadly. 'I took too much off and they're all lumpy.'

'That doesn't matter,' Albus assured him, 'they'll taste just as good and you'll do even better next time.'

Albus's mind started to wander and he found himself thinking about potions preparations. A lot of that was just chopping and slicing, after all. As Harry started to work his way through a sack of potatoes Albus considered how he might fare with herbs and roots and leaves.

He didn't intend to start teaching Harry magic until he was old enough. In fact, he hoped to shield him from magic entirely until he was able to understand and control his own powers. But that didn't stop Albus from imagining all the different ways he could begin to lay the groundwork. It would be easy, for instance, to teach Harry about all the different plants with magical properties and help him to identify them.

Harry needn't know what he was being taught. He could be led to believe that this was part of basic biology, something that every child was taught about. Albus could guide him quietly without him ever realising it.

'We'll need to add some seasoning before we put the vegtables in to roast,' he told Harry once all the vegetables were sliced. 'Would you like to help with that too?'

Harry nodded eargerly.

'Then we'll need salt, pepper, rosemary and thyme,' Albus told him. 'Can you see which ones those are, on the shelf? Go fetch them down and we'll mix them up in a bowl with olive oil and vinegar.'

His eyes glinted a little as Harry measured out the powers with his fingers.

The routine that Albus had developed seemed to reassure Harry that he was not going to be abandoned any time soon and so he was a lot less anxious about spending time alone. However whenever he and Albus were together he was still quite needy and demanding.

Albus had anticipated that Harry would crave a great deal of love and attention, after being denied it for so long, but he still found himself completely overwhelmed by the sudden torrent of affection that came his way.

'I love you,' Harry declared as Albus tucked him neatly into bed. 'I love you more than anything or anyone in the world.'

'I love you too, Harry,' Albus replied softly, because he knew that was what he was supposed to say.

He didn't really believe that Harry loved him. Not yet, anyway. They were still practically strangers and hadn't spent enough time together to develop a deep familial bond.

When Harry said 'I love you,' all he was really saying was, ' _Please take care of me; I need you to survive_.' And when Albus replied, 'I love you too,' all he was saying was, ' _I promise I will; You are safe with me_.' It was a script that nature had written long before either of them had ever been born. They were only playing their parts and speaking the lines that belonged to them.

One day they would say those words to each other and really mean them. They would look at each other and see someone that they truly knew, cared for and trusted. Then, when they said the words, they would inflict a stab of pain, just as surely as any curse.

Albus tried to push aside these thoughts as he stared down at the little boy in the bed. He could already feel the primal tug at his heart that urged for softness and sweetness. He reached out gently and stroked at the child's hair, carefully shifting it over to cover-up the lightning bolt scar.

'I love you very much, Harry,' he assured him. 'My brave little boy.'

He leant down gently and gave Harry a warm hug and a kiss goodnight. Harry hugged him back tightly and when Albus tried to pull away he kept on clinging to him.

'Again,' he whispered.

Albus found himself caught off-guard for the second time that night.

'Again?' He repeated, raising his eyebrows.

'Again!' Harry squealed back.

Albus sighed theatrically and then leant in for another hug. This time he covered Harry's cheek in a fluffy of small kisses. 'I love you,' he murmured into his ear, I love you so much I could just eat you up!'

Harry shrieked with delight and clung to him even harder. Once again when Albus tried to pull away he locked his arms tight about his neck.

'Again!' He demanded.

This struck Albus as a little excessive. He could see the little boy's shining bright and eager and his fingernails were digging into his skin. It was time to cut him off now and lay down the law.

'One more time,' He said slowly and deliberately. 'Then we're done. It's bedtime now, not playtime, and you need to get your sleep.'

He tried to make the final hug the warmest and tightest so far and kissed Harry at least a dozen times. He hoped that this would be enough to satisfy Harry, but unfortunately it wasn't. Children always want more.

'Again!' Harry demanded, as soon as Albus lifted his head.

'No,' Albus said sternly. 'I told you that was the last time.'

He reached up and started to untangle the boy's arms from his neck. Harry resisted though, clinging on for all he was worth and looking up at the man pleadingly.

'Once more?' He begged.

Albus had already said 'no' and given an explanation so didn't feel the need to repeat himself. He wasn't about to risk entering into an endless loop of 'please' - 'no' - 'please' - 'no.'

He took hold of Harry's arms and gently pushed him back down onto the bed. Harry tried to get up again right away, stretching out his arms eagerly, but Albus simply forced him back down a second time.

He was afraid that Harry might keep fighting him and he would have to decide whether to wrestle with him for the next half an hour or restrain him with magic, but after the second attempt all the fight seemed to drain out of Harry.

He shrunk back against the pillow and stared up at Albus with a stricken expression. Tears welled up in his eyes and his lips started to tremble. Albus quickly looked away, trying to harden his heart, but he couldn't shut out the sound of Harry drawing a long, shaky breath.

Harry had started crying properly by the time Albus reached the door. Not loud, impatient howls which would have been easy to ignore, but muffled little whimpers that sounded raw and genuine. Albus left hastily, without looking back.

Once downstairs Albus positioned himself in the armchair closest to the door and straighten his clothes. He knew he ought to find something to distract himself but he couldn't think of anything to do so he just sat there, in silence, and watched the clock.

Once half an hour had passed Albus cast a disillusionment charm over himself and crept back upstairs. It was quiet now and he took care not to make any noise as he nudged the bedroom door open.

He found Harry curled up in a tight ball under the covers, fast asleep. His face was smooth and calm, with only the slightest trace of tears upon his cheeks. Albus lingered for a moment, watching him breathing softly, and then left, closing the door silently behind him.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Hi everyone. I've edited this chapter quite a bit and slotted in a new one just before it. I think this will be the last one from Dumbledore's POV. I think we'll be jumping ahead a few years and then seeing everything from Harry's perspective for pretty much the rest of the story.

—-

They were in the middle of breakfast one morning when Harry looked up from his waffles and asked,

'Are we going to live here forever?'

By this time they had been at the house in Oxford for just over three months and had settled in quite nicely. Harry had a wardrobe full of new clothes that he had picked out himself and six shelves of books. Albus had transformed the study into an exact replica of the headmaster's office at Hogwarts and had built a small aviary in the garden to house his owls.

'Would you like to stay here forever?' Albus asked Harry.

'Yes, I like it here.' Harry said.

Albus smiled. 'I do too, but I don't think we can stay here for too long. A year or two, at the most.'

Harry looked up at him with surprise. 'Why not?' He demanded.

This was probably first time that Albus had ever asked him if he wanted something without then offereing it to him. Harry had obviously expected Albus to smile and tell him that, of course, they would stay here forever. That was the way they played that game.

'Well, this isn't actually my house,' Albus explained. 'It's my friend Harriet's. She's away at the moment but she'll be back in a couple of years. When she's back she'll want to live here again.'

'But it's our house now!' Harry protested.

'I'm afraid not,' Albus said softly. 'Harriet kindly agreed to let us stay here while she's away, but it's still her house. We're her guests.'

'Where is she then?' Harry asked. 'If this is her house then why isn't she here?'

'She's travelling,' Albus explained patiently. 'She's writing a book about people who live in unusual places so she has to go to lots of unusual places to see what they're like and how they live.'

Harry was not interested in this at all.

'You said you'd find me a new family,' he said suddenly. 'You said you'd find me a nice new family to take care of me and I'd live with them forever!'

This caught Albus completely off-guard. For a moment he thought Harry was actually saying that he wanted to leave him, which he was not prepared for, but then he realised that Harry was just complaining because Albus had broken his promise.

He'd been wrong before; There had been one other time when he'd asked Harry if he wanted something and then failed to give it to him. Harry had not forgotten. He was hastily adding it to a growing list of betrayals.

'Do you still want a new family?' Albus asked quietly, just to make sure.

Harry looked surprised. 'No, of course not!' He exclaimed. 'I want to live here, with you, forever!'

'Well, we can't live here forever, I'm afraid,' Albus sighed. 'We'll just live here for a short while and then we'll move somewhere else. Somewhere nicer, perhaps.'

He assumed that this would placate Harry, but it didn't. If anything Harry looked even more upset.

'Why can't we live here forever?' He asked again.

Albus shot him a stern look over the top of his glasses. 'I've already told you why.'

'Why can't you make this our house?' Harry asked.

Albus raised his eyebrows. 'I can't take something away from somebody else. If Harriet wants to keep her house, I can't make her sell or give it to me.'

'Yes you can!' Harry objected. 'You can do anything!'

It was obvious that Harry he had come to view Albus as some sort of fairy godmother who would give him everything he wanted. It wasn't his fault though; Albus had been far too generous.

'Actions have consequences, Harry,' Albus said solemnly. 'I have told you why we cannot stay in this house and you will have to accept that. I'm not going to discuss this any further.'

Harry's face flushed red. 'You're a liar!' He shouted.

'Harry,' Albus said quietly, 'you will not raise your voice like that. I am sorry you're upset but you need to control your temper.'

His cold, disapproving tone had reduced dozens of adolescent students to quivering wrecks, contrite about everything they had ever done in their entire lives, but it had no absolutely effect on the four-year-old boy in front of him now.

'You're a liar!' Harry repeated, his voice rising even louder. 'Liar!'

Then he shoved his breakfast across the table. The plate slid right over the edge and smashed on to the floor.

Albus stood up and walked smoothly over to where Harry was sitting. Harry continued glaring up at Albus, even as he towered over him, but Albus could see his lips quivering.

'Harry, I warned you that you needed to control your temper. Now you are going to sit here for the next five minutes and think about what you've done.'

He was afraid that Harry would continue to defy him but Harry sat still for the duration of his punishment, even as he sobbed and whimpered.

Albus cleared the table but left the broken plate and scattered waffles on the floor. Once the time was up he went back to Harry and kneeled on the floor in front of him.

'Harry,' he said gently, 'You behaved very badly just now. You raised your voice and threw your breakfast on the floor. Are you ready to apologise for what you did?'

Harry was crying heavily now, though obviously trying to stop. Snot was dribbling out of his nose in a steady stream.

'I'm sorry,' he whimpered. 'I'm sorry.'

'Thank you,' Albus said.

He gave Harry a big hug and a kiss on the cheek. Harry clung to him, still sobbing quietly, and buried his face in his hair.

'I love you very much, Harry,' Albus said softly. 'You know that, don't you?'

Harry sniffed loudly. 'I love you too,' he murmured thickly, through about three inches of hair and beard.

'Good,' Albus said, pulling away gently. 'You remember what I told you though? Actions have consequences.'

Harry frowned uncertainly and took a hiccuping gulp of air.

Albus raised his eyebrows in a friendly sort of way and pointed over at the broken plate.

'I would like you to pick up all that mess and put it in the bin. You'll need to wipe the floor clean too.'

Harry took another deep breath, wiped his nose and then got to work. Albus watched him as he knelt down and picked at the pieces of china.

'Watch your fingers,' Albus warned.

When Harry was done Albus told him to go play in his room and he ran away eagerly, for once. Albus waited for a moment, to make sure he was out of sight, and then reached into the bin and retrieved the broken pieces of plate.

He set them down on the side and waved his wand over them. In a second they were whole again and sparklingly clean. Albus took the repaired plate and put it back in the cupboard with the others.

For the most part, Albus was good at hiding his magic from Harry, but sometimes he got a little careless. He performed spells to please or entertain him without thinking through the consequences.

That evening he was reading to Harry and had the idea to make each words light up as he said them. He thought that this would help Harry to learn to read and the glowing letters certainly caught his attention.

He followed their movements with his eyes and then started frowning and reached out to touch the page.

'How's it doing that?' He asked.

Albus was surprised. He had assumed that Harry was too young to know the difference between science and magic, being so used to modern conveniences like lights that turned on and off at the flick of a switch, but he'd been wrong. Harry didn't have any idea how electricity worked but he had already learned how it behaved.

He knew that a button needed to be pressed and there had to be a wire and some sort of machine to do the work. When he touched the page of the storybook and found that it was just plain paper he was instantly suspicious.

Albus supposed realised he ought to have hidden it better. It would not have taken much to clip something on the edge of the book or hold a small pen in his hand. If only he had something that Harry could mistake for a torch then there wouldn't have been a problem. But it was too late now.

'It's just a little trick,' Albus said vaguely.

Harry was not at all convinced by this. He frowned deeper and peered closely at the page. Albus started reading again, hoping that Harry would be distracted by the story, but Harry kept chasing the light with his hands.

It didn't show up on the back of his fingers so he could tell that that the light wasn't shining down on the book from above. The page also wasn't hot or bumpy so knew there couldn't be anything in or behind the paper.

'I can't read the words if you've got your hands all over them,' Albus said sharply. 'Would you like me to stop?'

Harry quickly pulled his hands back and shook his head. Albus continued reading and there were no further questions about where the light came from.

Albus often worried about how he was going to explain everything to Harry, when the time came. The problem was that there was just so much that Harry needed to be told and there was so little he could understand. It would have to be done very carefully, in stages, so that nothing troubled him too much.

He thought about it that night, as he tucked Harry into bed. He supposed that there were lots of little things too which he ought to have explained to Harry which he hadn't.

'Harry,' He began gently, 'I know that I told you that I was going to find you a new family and I never did.'

'That's okay,' Harry said quickly. 'I don't want a new family anymore.'

Albus smiled. 'I know. I just want to make sure you understand. I wasn't lying to you when I said that. I was planning to find you a new family but my plans changed.'

'I know!' Harry exclaimed loudly. He was squirming about impatiently under the covers. 'I'm not stupid, you know! I understand!'

Albus hesitated for a moment. 'What do you understand?'

Harry looked suddenly unsure, like a student that's just been asked an unexpected follow-up question.

'You're my new family,' he mumbled, his face going red.

Albus chuckled in surprise and reached out to stroke Harry's cheek.

'Yes, that's true,' he said. 'I decided I was going to look after you instead so now I'm your family.'

'I only want you,' Harry said earnestly. 'I don't need anyone else.'

Albus felt very calm suddenly, very sure of his position. It seemed like they'd turned a corner somehow.

'I love you very much, Harry,' he told him. 'I'm going to look after you forever. I want to make absolutely sure that you understand that. We're always going to stay together.'

Harry nodded, blinking a little.

'We won't stay in this house forever,' Albus continued, 'and we'll probably end-up moving house quite a few times but we'll always live together.'

Harry nodded again then he reached out his arms towards Albus. 'I love you,' he said.

'I love you too,' Albus replied, giving him a warm hug. 'I love you so much.'

He held Harry tight for a couple of seconds and then drew back very slowly. Harry let him go instead trying to cling on to him.

Albus sat back on the bed and adjusted his glasses.

'I did look for a new family for you,' he told Harry. 'I looked very hard but there was no one who was quite right.'

Harry seemed a little surprised by this but he didn't say anything. He just waited patiently to see what else Albus had to say.

Albus let out a sigh. 'The thing is Harry, you're ... a very special little boy and ... and you need someone special to take care of you. There were many families who would have loved to have taken care of you but none of them were good enough.'

Harry's eyes seemed to get wider and wider as Albus talked. Obviously, no had ever said anything like this to him before. The Dursley's certainly wouldn't have told him he was special.

'I don't even know if I am good enough to take care of you,' Albus said solemnly, 'but I will try my best to be. I hope that you will be patient with me.'

Harry let out a little splutter of protest. 'You're the best - the greatest - ' He didn't seem quite capable of forming a coherent sentence but the sentiment was clear enough.

'I'm glad you think that,' Albus said, beaming at him.

He reached out on hand to stroke at Harry's hair. His fingers combed through through the thick, black locks smoothly, and the little boy seemed soothed by the motion.

'Your parents were very special too,' Albus said quietly.

Harry's breath caught in his throat. 'My parents?' He said, surprised.

'Yes,' Albus said. 'I knew your parents very well. They were very special people indeed.' He swallowed, trying to think how to proceed from there.

Harry's face stared up at Albus expectantly, his bright green eyes shining with excitement. Albus looked from Harry's flushed face to his tiny hand clenched over the duvet. He realised that it was impossible.

'One day,' he said slowly. 'I will explain to you just how special your parents were and why they died.' He swallowed again. 'I wish I could tell you now but it's ... too complicated for you to understand.'

Harry looked disappointed and as if he might be about to argue. Albus didn't feel up to having that discussion right now so he quickly searched around for a distraction.

'Your parents loved you very much,' he said hastily. 'I remember how happy they were when you were born. They threw a big party and invited everyone they knew to come see you.'

He related the story in as much detail as he could remember. Harry listened to it all spellbound, his mouth hanging open a little.

'Tell me more,' he demanded as soon as the story was finished. 'Please.'

Albus looked at him sadly. 'Not tonight,' he said, as gently as he possibly could. 'I promise I'll tell you more tomorrow.'

He braced himself for another battle but Harry just sighed sadly and dropped back against the pillow.

'You're tired,' Albus observed. 'It's time we said goodnight.'

Harry said nothing but closed his eyes and jiggled his head a little in what Albus supposed was meant to be a nod.

Albus leant in and gave Harry one last kiss on the cheek. 'I love you,' he said.

'Love you,' Harry replied.

Albus switched off the light and left him alone to drift off to sleep. He hoped that, at least for tonight, his dreams were sweet and pleasant ones. There was so much darkness and sorrow waiting for him in the future.


	6. Chapter 6

Harry Potter had lived in a lot of different places when he was growing up but the house he shared with his guardian, Albus Dumbledore, in the Scottish highlands, was by far the strangest and most wonderful.

In was a very large, beautiful house , surrounded by spectacular gardens and several acres of woodland. It was only situated a mile or so from the small village of Catchcombe but none of the locals seemed to be aware of it. The dog walkers and ramblers always took different routes into the countryside and if they ever happened to come close to the property they quickly decided that the ground was too rough and rocky and turned back again.

The house had no name or number so it would have been practically impossible for anyone to find it even if they had the address. The postman had only visited the house twice, as far as Harry could remember, and both times he had seemed utterly perplexed to find himself there.

The house had probably been built centuries ago but it had been repaired and redecorated before they moved in. The window frames had been painted a bright white and the red bricks were clean and regular. Nothing was crumbling or peeling and when Harry ran his hands over the ornate pillars and archways the wood felt solid and smooth under his fingers.

Harry's bedroom was right at the top of the house, on the fourth floor. He had chosen it himself, when they had first arrived, knowing that it would be just right for him. It was quite a small room but very light and comfortable, with a large skylight in the ceiling.

The furniture was all built into the walls, carefully shaped to fit their contours. Harry's bed was tucked snuggly into one corner and his desk in the other. The rest of the wall space was taken up by cupboards and bookshelves that arched up at a sharp angle into the slope of the roof.

Harry loved the peculiar shape of the furniture and the way it all slotted together exactly. He knew that it had all been built just for him and arranged exactly as he wanted it. He liked being able to reach out in the middle of the night and touch his bookcase or his bedside table and know that he was home.

He had the entire fourth floor to himself because the other two rooms up there were so small and so cramped that they weren't suitable for anything other than storage. The professor had slowly filled them up with old pieces of furniture and boxes of books until the doors wouldn't even open anymore.

Now and again, Albus would murmur that he really ought to clear some of the things out, which Harry understood as his way of admitting that he never would.

One day, Harry came out of his bedroom and found Albus standing outside the left-hand storage room with an upright piano. He was peering through the keyhole, obviously trying to work out how to fit it in.

'Albus,' laughed, 'that's not going to work! You've got too much in there!'

The professor blinked for a second and then nodded. 'Yes, you're right, Harry. I should clear a few things out first.'

Harry smiled his agreement and headed downstairs. He was halfway down when he heard a loud crash. It sounded alarmingly like a piano falling over and smashing into the floor.

Harry doubled back hastily, expecting to find a wreckage of wood, metal and ivory. Instead he found professor straightening up and dusting off his hands. The piano was nowhere to be seen.

Harry gave his guardian a quizzical look but the old man had adopted one of his infuriatingly vague expressions that meant there was no point questioning him. Chances were he would probably just blink his eyes and say something ridiculous like, 'Piano? What piano?'

It was impossible, of course, that an entire piano could have been squeezed through a keyhole, but seemingly impossible things often happened around Albus Dumbledore. Things tended to appear when he wanted them and disappear when he didn't, without any explanation.

It never happened right in front of Harry. It was always while he was out of the room or looking away. It was as if Albus wanted to pretend that things were coming and going in a normal way but he wasn't doing a very good job of it.

Usually, it happened overnight, like with Harry's birthday and Christmas presents. When Harry went to sleep there was nothing there and then when he woke up there was something wonderful waiting for him. Like a new bike or a pair of skates.

When he was small this had never struck him as particularly strange. He just assumed that his guardian had purchased the presents and then hidden them somewhere in the house. It was a big house, after all, and presents were supposed to be a surprise.

He only really started to get suspicious last year, on his sixth birthday, when albus gave him the treehouse.

For one thing it wasn't an ordinary treehouse; It actually was a cluster of small circular houses spread out across the branches of two oak trees and connected by rope bridges and wooden walkways and swings.

The inside of each house was just as fabulous as the outside with dozens of hidden compartments and sliding panels. One had a little observation deck, with a railing around it, and another had a trapdoor.

When Albus had first taken him to see it he had cried with shock and delight. It was the most wonderful gift he had ever been given.

'How did it get here?' He exclaimed.

Albus smiled at him, eyes twinkling. 'I put it up last night,' he said. 'Do you like it?'

The answer to that was obvious. Harry laughed, wiping the tears from his cheeks. 'Of course!'

Then he had hugged the old man tightly, overcome with joy and gratitude. It had only occurred to him later that there was something seriously wrong with Albus's story.

One crisp autumn morning a large brown owl swept in through the kitchen window and dropped a letter on the table. This was not an unusual occurrence. Owls were always fluttering into the house and dropping-off letters and parcels. Harry had grown used to the flapping of wings and the clacking of beaks interrupting breakfast. He supposed that birds were better at navigating the countryside than postmen.

As Albus opened up the letter Harry noticed that the back of the envelope bore an official-looking coat of arms.

'What's that?' He asked curiously.

Albus glanced-up distractedly. 'It's from my old school,' he said.

'What?' Harry exclaimed. 'Where you went a child?'

'Yes,' Albus chuckled. 'Although that's not why they're writing to me. It's also where I used to teach and where I worked as headmaster.'

'Oh,' Harry said simply.

He knew that Albus had once been the headmaster of a boarding school but they hadn't talked about it much. It was one of the subjects that Albus seemed to avoid.

Harry stared the discarded envelope with intense interest. After a moment he reached across the table for it.

'Can I see that?' He asked.

Albus looked up again to see what Harry was talking about. He seemed to hesitate for a second but then he slid the envelope over to him.

Harry picked it up happily and peered curiously at the school's coat of arms. It was an old-fashioned shield with four animals prancing around the large letter 'H.'

'What's it called?' Harry asked.

'Hogwarts,' Albus told him.

Harry giggled. 'No, really!'

Albus raised his eyebrows. 'Really,' he insisted.

'It can't be called Hogwarts!' Harry protested, still giggling. 'That's such a silly name.'

Albus smiled. 'Perhaps, but the name was chosen a long time ago. It might not have seemed so silly back then.'

Albus turned his attention back to the letter, brows furrowing as he made his way down. When he reached the end he let out a very heavy sigh and quickly folded the paper back up again.

'Personally, I think it's a very good thing for a grand, important place to have a silly name.' He continued. 'It makes people feel less intimidated.'

Did you name it?' Harry asked.

'Oh no!' Albus exclaimed. 'The school's over a thousand years old!'

'It's the sort of thing you would do,' Harry teased.

'It is,' Albus admitted.

Harry peered closer at the envelope. 'If it's called Hogwarts then why isn't there a pig on its shield?'

The coat of arms appeared to be decorated by a lion, a badger, an eagle and a snake. They were all looking at the large capital 'H' with bright, beady eyes, as if they were about to fight over it. Harry wondered which of them would win. Probably the lion; it was the biggest and toughest, after all.

'The four animals represent the four houses of Hogwarts,' Albus told him. 'They were chosen by the founders because they all symbolise the virtues they most value.'

Harry frowned. 'Houses?'

'They're groups that the students belong to,' Albus explained patiently. 'Each house has their own dormitory and common room and their own table in the dining hall.'

Harry ran his fingers over the little animals, tracing over the wings of the eagle and the curves of the snake

'Are the houses all named after animals then?' Harry asked. 'Is it Lion House and Eagle House and so on?'

'No,' Albus chucked. 'Although that would be far simpler. They're named after the founders: Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Slytherin.'

'More silly names!' Harry declared.

Albus leant over and tapped each of the animals in turn. 'Gryffindor is the lion, Ravenclaw the eagle, Hufflepuff the badger and Slytherin the snake.'

Harry nodded slightly to show that he was listening.

'The lion stands for courage and loyalty,' Albus told him. 'The snake, cunning and ambition.'

Harry nodded again. 'And the eagle?' He asked. 'Would that be ... ' He fumbled for a possible meaning.

'Wit and wisdom,' Albus said. 'It's not necessarily the sort of thing you think of when you see an eagle but animals never work as perfect symbols.'

'No,' Harry agreed. 'Snakes aren't really cunning, either. They've very patient and they'll hide and wait for their prey for a long time before jumping out at them but lots of animals hunt like that don't they?'

'Yes,' Albus said. 'It's - '

'And what about the badger?' Harry interrupted. 'What's that supposed to mean?'

'Hard work and perseverance,' Albus told him.

'Because badges build dens?' Harry asked. 'But foxes do that too and rabbits. I don't think that badgers are that hard-working, compared to other animals.'

'No,' Albus smiled. 'You're right again.'

There was brief silence. Harry was thinking about different types of animals and their traits and behaviours and Albus was watching him thoughtfully. After a few seconds had passed Albus opened his mouth again, to say something else, but just then he was interrupted by a loud squawking from the other room.

The owl that had brought the letter seemed to taken a liking to their own tawny owl, Tabitha. Unfortunately Tabitha didn't feel the same way and had decided to gently rebuff their visitor's advances by pecking his eyes out.

'Ah well, they say the path of true love never runs smooth,' Albus said, 'but in this case, I think it's best if we intervene before romance changes to tragedy.'

'I'll go,' Harry offered. 'I can take Tabitha out to the aviary and let the other one go. She's just cranky because she hasn't slept yet.'

'No,' Albus replied. 'I'll go. Finish your breakfast.'

He got up from the table and headed into the living room. The frantic squeaking increased for a moment and then died away completely. Harry heard Albus speaking softly to the birds and then the click of the door.

He had left the letter on the table.

Harry waited for a moment and then got up hurriedly and picked it up. He unfolded it and read as quickly as he could, knowing that Albus would not be gone for long. Luckily, the handwriting was not too difficult to read, although it was embellished with little swoops and flourishes.

 _Dear Albus,_

 _I'm afraid I have more bad news. In addition to the latest DADA appointment falling through, Ursula has just given in her notice. She won't even be able to stay until the end of term as her son has fallen seriously ill and she needs to travel up to Yorkshire to care for him._

 _You may already know this of course, I am not sure how much information reaches you these days, but Henry Sheridan was part of a team trying to track down Fenrir Greyback. Apparently there's been a series of attacks out on the moors and several children were found dead. Ursula claims that Henry has contracted Grusgarius, but I fear that he has in fact been bitten. That would explain why Ursula is leaving to care for him herself rather than taking him to St Mungo's._

 _This leaves the school in a difficult position as there isn't much time to find a replacement. Lucius Malfoy has been trying to get the board to appoint Orpheus Storme and I'm sorry to say that they're seriously considering it. I think they're worried that if they don't appoint someone quickly the role of headmaster will start to gain a reputation to rival that of the DADA post._

 _I know that you are not ready to return to the school but I hope that you will be able to intervene somehow. If you write to the board and advise them to consider another candidate I am sure they will listen to you._

 _I really cannot bear the idea of Storme taking charge of the school. He has already made it quite clear that he favours the old ways and is sure to bring back the cruelest forms of punishment. Filtch is all for it of course, but the rest of us are worried sick about it and missing you terribly._

 _Yours Faithfully,  
Minerva_

Harry was still reading through the letter, trying to puzzle it all out, when the front door slammed. He hastily shoved it back down and hurried back to his seat but he wasn't quite quick enough. He was just sitting down when Albus entered the kitchen.

Albus narrowed his eyes at him. 'What were you doing?'

'Nothing!' Harry said shrilly. 'I was just ... getting some more juice.'

He always found it difficult to lie to Albus. The man always seemed to know everything that was going on and it was impossible to hide things from him. As Harry sat upright in his chair, body tensed, Albus's blue eyes swept over the table like a searchlight.

'Did you read my letter?' He asked.

Harry bit his lip. 'Yes,' he admitted.

Albus smiled gently. 'It's okay,' he told Harry. 'I could tell you were curious.'

Albus sat down and picked up his letter again, re-reading it once more to remind himself of its contents.

'They've got to find a new teacher and a new headmaster,' he summarised, 'and that's going to be difficult.'

He didn't say anything about the other parts of the letter. The parts about a man killing children on the moors and biting people who tried to stop him. Harry didn't want to bring it up himself though so he just nodded.

'The person who wrote the letter,' he said, after a moment. 'Mi...Mer...'

'Minerva McGonagall,' Albus said softly. 'She's a teacher at Hogwarts and a good friend of mine.'

'Yes, her,' Harry agreed. 'She wants you to come back and be headmaster again, doesn't she?'

'Yes,' Albus admitted. 'There are a lot of people who would like me to come back.'

'But you're not going to?' Harry asked.

Albus glanced up at him with concern in his eyes. 'No, not yet,' he said softly.

'Not yet?' Harry repeated. 'So you will go back one day?'

Albus was silent for a moment. 'We will go back,' he told Harry. 'When you're old enough.'

'What do you mean?' Harry asked sharply.

'It was always my plan to take you to Hogwarts when you were old enough to study there,' Albus admitted. 'You will go as a student and I will return to my position as headmaster.'

Harry was so stunned that he had to lean back in his chair. 'When?' He demanded.

'Well,' Albus began unsteadily, 'students start at Hogwarts when they turn eleven. So, we would go there in just over four years.' He gave Harry a sidelong look. 'Do you like the sound of that? Going away to school?'

'Do I have a choice?' Harry demanded.

'No,' Albus said simply. 'That's one of the reasons I didn't tell you about it until now. You don't always handle change well.'

'That's not true!' Harry protested. 'Why would you say that?'

Albus quirked a smile. 'You're right, I was wrong. Please forgive me.'

Harry scowled. 'Now you're just teasing me.' He picked up his fork and started toying with what was left of his scrambled eggs.

'Do you think I'll like it at Hogwarts?' He asked, sulkily.

Albus smiled wide. 'You'll love it there,' he assured him.


	7. Chapter 7

If you were to come across a list of Harry Potter's favourite things you might easily mistake it for a list of the things that scared him. This is because the sort of things that terrified most six-year-olds were usually the things that Harry liked the most.

Heights, for instance. Harry spent most of his time climbing to the tops of trees or tip-toeing all over the roof. He loved the sensation of being up high and looking down at the world below. He even quite liked falling. He had a special knack for it. He knew how to angle his body so that it hardly hurt at all. In fact, sometimes the wind seemed to catch him and he just glided gently to the ground. It was almost like flying.

Then there was snakes. Harry had learnt from books and films that most children were scared to death of snakes but when he first caught sight of a snake whipping through the grass he felt nothing but a thrill of excitement. He tried to chase after it but it moved too fast for him and was gone in a moment.

'I saw a snake in the woods,' he told his guardian excitedly. 'It was yellow and black and it moved like lightning!'

Lightning was another unusual thing that Harry loved. He always got excited when there was a thunderstorm brewing and liked to watch for the first flash of lightning. For this reason, he was especially fond of the small scar on his forehead which was shaped exactly like a lightning bolt. He had had it as long as he could remember, ever since he was a baby, and it was his favourite thing about his appearance.

'That would have been an adder,' Albus said mildly. 'There are quite a few of them around here. They won't bother you though, as long as you leave them alone.'

'I wasn't scared of it,' Harry objected, 'I just thought it was interesting. I don't want to leave it alone.'

Albus smiled. 'Well, just make sure you don't get bitten.'

Harry was surprised. 'Are they poisonous?' He asked. 'I didn't think there was anything really poisonous in this country.'

'Venomous,' Albus corrected him. 'It injects a poison when it bites, but it's not a very strong poison. It might hurt a lot and you'd probably be quite sick though.'

'Well, I won't get bitten then,' Harry said confidently.

'Oh won't you?' Albus replied. 'Well then, that's a very wise decision.'

He ordered him a big book on snakes with lots of pictures and diagrams and Harry spent several hours poring over it, digesting the information. Then he set out to hunt down the adder he had seen and study it.

He searched all through the woods, peering into likely looking cracks and holes, but he couldn't find any sign of a snake living there. So he decided to lie down in the grass and wait for it to come out.

He knew it was unlikely that the snake would slither right up to him but he couldn't think of anything else to do. He lay as still and quiet as he could, waiting patiently as the sun set, but nothing happened.

In desperation, Harry started to sing out to the snake, hoping it would respond. This was a very silly idea as snakes weren't like cats or dogs and didn't come when they were called, but somehow it worked. He'd only been murmuring softly for a few minutes when he caught sight of a flash of yellow between two blades of grass.

'Hello?' He called out. 'Will you come here and say hello to me? Don't be afraid.'

The adder seemed to hesitate for a moment and then headed straight for him. It stopped just a few inches away from him, eying him nervously.

Harry desperately wanted to reach out and touch it but he was worried that might scare it away, so he stayed still, breathing quietly, and addressed the serpent again.

'Hello there,' he whispered. 'It's nice to meet you. My name is Harry. I live back there, in the big house.'

He pointed back over his shoulder. The sharp slopes of the house's roof were just visible through the trees. Amazingly the snake lifted up its head and looked where Harry was pointing.

'Where do you live?' Harry asked. 'In some nice little hole in the ground somewhere? I couldn't find it when I looked.'

The snake flicked-out its tongue teasingly.

'May I touch you?' Harry asked. 'May I stroke your scales?'

The adder slithered forward and laid itself out before him. Harry reached-out gently and ran a hand over it's cool, smooth body.

'You are very pretty,' he said. 'May I pick you up?'

The snake considered for a moment and then bowed its head in agreement. Harry lifted it up carefully and wound its coils about his hands.

'You are such a lovely creature,' he said happily, 'aren't you?'

The adder flicked out its tongue again and opened its mouth a little in something resembling a smile. It seemed pleased by the compliment.

'What's your name, I wonder?' Harry said. 'I have to call you something.'

The adder crawled up to his shoulder and pressed its head into his ear. It hissed loudly; a strange, sinister sound that stuck in Harry's ears.

'What was that?' Harry murmured.

The adder looked up at Harry with its inky black eyes. 'My name,' it said, quite clearly. 'That's my name.'

'I found the snake!' Harry sung out as he hurtled into the house. 'It's a girl and we're friends now!'

'It's gone dark,' Albus replied severely. 'I told you not to stay out after it got dark.'

'I know but I had to wait until the sunset,' Harry protested. 'Snakes like to come out when the sun goes down. I read that in the book.'

He went over to the kitchen sink and started washing his hands.

'I spoke to her,' he said excitedly. 'She told me all about her life and her name but I can't repeat it properly. It's just a hiss, but it means something like "first-born", I think.'

He turned around with the tea-towel in his hands and regarded his guardian earnestly.

'I'm not pretending,' he said quietly. 'She really did talk to me. She spoke just like a person and I understood everything she said.'

Albus looked down at him with furrowed brows. Behind his half-moon spectacles his eyes were narrow and wrinkled.

'I mean it!' Harry whined. 'She really spoke!'

'I believe you,' Albus said. He tapped the back of the dining chair. 'Sit down. It's almost dinnertime.'

Harry sat down obediently but was unable to keep still. He jiggled his legs under the table.

'Can you talk to snakes?' He asked

Albus set a plate down in front of Harry without looking down at him. The corners of his eyes were still all crumpled-up.

'No,' he said after a moment. 'That's a very special gift.'

Harry considered this as cut up his steak. Albus often used the word "special" as if it was some kind of secret code word but Harry hadn't worked out exactly what he meant by it.

'Could my parents talk to snakes?' He asked.

'No,' Albus replied.

'They were ... special though, weren't they?' Harry pressed.

Albus looked up at him over the top of his glasses. His eyes were crinkled-up again but he was smiling gently as if he was pleased.

'Yes,' he said. 'You're right.'

There was another poignant pause.

'I will explain all that to you, one day,' Albus promised quietly.

'When?' Harry demanded.

'When you're older.'

Harry made a face. 'I am older, Albus,' he protested, 'I'm getting older everyday.'

Albus smiled sadly. 'I know.' A pause. 'It won't be long now.'

Harry dropped his head down. 'Okay,' he said.

There was a storm that night. Harry curled up in the largest chair in the living room, right by the fire, and listened happily to the sound of the thunder. He had never felt more comfortable or more at home.

He had a book in his lap and reading contentedly but he slowly became aware of his guardian staring at him. He looked up suddenly and their eyes met.

'What is it?' Harry asked.

Albus looked uncomfortable. He glanced down at his own book, hands folded over an open page.

'I've been thinking about what you said at dinner,' he said quietly. 'You are getting older Harry and there are a lot of things I ought to tell you.'

Harry put down his book and leant forward.

Albus was quiet a moment. 'I can't tell you everything yet,' he began sadly, 'but you deserve to at least know about what really happened to your parents.'

Harry sat very still, holding his breath. Overhead the sky roared.

'Your aunt and uncle told you that your parents died in an accident, didn't they?'

Harry nibbled at his bottom lip. 'They said they died in a car crash,' he said quietly.

'Well,' Albus sighed, 'that wasn't true. They lied to you. Perhaps to make it easier for you but probably just to make it easier for themselves.'

Harry stared at him. 'What's the truth?'

Albus got up and came over to kneel on the floor, right in front of Harry. It was very warm there beside the fireplace, but they both shivered as if they were cold.

'Harry,' Albus said gently. 'Your parents were murdered.'

Harry sunk back into the chair.

'Murdered?' He repeated. 'How could they have been murdered?'

Murder was something that happened to people in books. It belonged to the world of heroes and villains, not the world of normal, everyday people.

'They got in the way of a very dangerous man,' Albus told him. 'He wanted something from them and they wouldn't give it to him. So he killed them.'

Harry twisted his hands in his lap. 'What did he want?'

Albus considered for a moment. 'It's a little complicated. To put it simply, he wanted them to help him kill someone else and they refused.'

'Why did he want to kill so many people?' Harry asked.

'He wanted to become the most powerful man in the world and he killed anyone who tried to stop him.'

Harry bit down hard, making his mouth bleed a little. He wiped the blood and drool away on his sleeve.

'Don't do that,' Albus said, grabbing at his arm. 'I'll get you a tissue.'

Harry swatted him away. 'No,' he protested. 'I'm fine.' He looked up at his guardian with a hard expression. 'Was it because they were special?'

Albus dropped his arm down. 'That was part of it,' he admitted.

'Was he was special, too?' Harry asked.

'Yes,' Albus replied. 'He and your parents were both special in the same way. The same way that you are special.'

Harry curled his fingers around the arm of the chair. He could still taste blood on the inside of his mouth.

'Could he talk to snakes?'

Albus let out a breath. 'Of all the connections to make!'

He laid a hand on Harry's shoulder. 'Yes, as a matter of fact, Lord Voldemort could talk to snakes. It was one of his very special powers.'

Harry sucked in his bottom lip. 'Was that his name?' He mumbled. 'Lord Voldemort?'

'Yes,' Albus replied. 'It was a name he chose for himself, to make himself seem more important and powerful.'

'It sounds like a story,' Harry said quietly. 'You used to tell me lots of stories like this, when I was younger.'

Albus smiled sadly. 'I hoped that they would help you understand.'

Harry reached up and wiped at his mouth again and then all over his face. His skin felt hot and rough like he'd been burned.

'Was Lord Voldemort really a very powerful man?' He asked.

'Yes,' Albus replied. 'He used to be very powerful. 'Your parents were very brave to have fought him.'

Harry looked right into Albus's eyes. 'Then who was more powerful? You or him?'

Albus's hand tightened on Harry's shoulder.

'I was more powerful,' he said quietly. 'I was far more powerful.'

Harry kept his eyes locked on Albus's. His jaw tightened.

'Then why,' he asked hoarsely, 'didn't you stop him?'

Albus's face fell.

'I'm sorry,' he whispered. 'I would have saved them if I could have. I didn't know that he was going to come after them that night. They were unprotected.'

Harry frowned and jerked Albus's hand off of his shoulder.

'You're lying to me,' he said quietly. 'You want me to believe you're the most powerful person in the world so that I'll feel safe. You're not though. You weren't.'

Albus looked up at him sadly. 'You're so smart, Harry. You must understand by now that no one is all powerful.'

'What happened to him?' Harry demanded. 'What happened to Lord Voldemort?'

'He lost all of his powers the night he killed your parents,' Albus said. 'It was very unexpected and no one knows exactly why.'

He tried to replace his hand on Harry's shoulder but Harry just shrugged him off again.

'Where is he?' Harry demanded. 'Is he dead or in prison?'

Albus sighed. 'He's still alive but he's very weak. He can barely move or speak and he can't do anything by himself.'

Harry relaxed a little.

'Is he in hospital then?'

Albus drew in a breath. 'No,' he said quietly. 'He ran away to Albania when he lost his powers and he's still hiding out there.'

'How do you know that?' Harry murmured.

'I know because people have gone looking for him and seen what he's like now.' Albus said simply.

'They might be lying though,' Harry objected. 'Or they might have got it wrong. He could be anywhere. He could be right outside the door for all you know.'

'No,' Albus said sharply. He took Harry's face in his hands. 'Listen to me, Harry. You are completely safe here. No one bad could ever find you here.'

A shudder ran through Harry's body.

'That's why we live out here isn't it?' He said quietly, 'To keep me safe.'

Albus's face crumpled like a sheet of tissue paper. He opened his mouth to say something else but Harry cut him off before he could even start.

'I don't want to talk about this anymore,' he said. 'I'm tired and I'm going to bed.'

'But Harry -'

'Thank you for telling me.'

He pushed his way past his guardian and charged out of the room. He half-expected Albus to follow after him, but he didn't. He left Harry run up to bed without another word.

Perhaps he thought enough harm had been done already.

Harry lay awake in his bed for a couple of hours listening to the last vestiges of the storm. He was trying not to think about what had been told but once the rain died down completely there was nothing to distract him.

Now that he knew his parents had been murdered strange, unpleasant memories had started to resurface. His ears were ringing with the sound of a madman's cold, cruel laughter and there was a bright green eyes burning through his eyelids.

He tried to shut it out, burying his head under the duvet and clutching at his cuddly toy dragon, but it was impossible. Even when he fell asleep his dreams were haunted by the sound of that laughter, along with a woman's desperate, frantic screaming.

He woke up shuddering and sweating, the sheets all tangled up around him, and started to cry.

A light flickered outside the door and footsteps creaked along the corridor. Harry just had time to wipe the tears from his eyes and duck back down under the covers before the bedroom door swung open.

He lay as still as he could and kept his eyes screwed shut but he was sure Albus could tell he was pretending. The bed sagged under his weight as he sat down and leant over him.

'Harry?'

He pushed back the damp strands of hair from his sweaty forehead.

'I heard you screaming,' he whispered. 'Did you have a nightmare.'

Harry hesitated for a moment and then opened his eyes.

'Yes,' he whispered.

Albus nodded sadly. 'What were you dreaming about?' He asked.

Harry was sure that he must already know so there was no point in trying to hide it.

'My parents death,' he said quietly. 'I heard them screaming as they were killed.'

Albus let out a heavy sigh. 'I shouldn't have told you,' he said. 'It's too much for someone your age to deal with.'

'No!' Harry protested. 'I needed to know! It's important!'

Albus smiled. 'You're a very smart, capable little boy, Harry. I just don't want you to be scared.'

'I'm not scared,' Harry insisted. 'I'm just sad.'

'Of course,' Albus said softly. He rubbed at Harry's shoulder. 'Do you want a hug?'

Harry sat up and let Albus give him a big hug, resting his head on Albus's shoulder.

'I had to go to the woods after the murder,' he said quietly. 'I had to go hide there to be safe. It was so cold and dark though and there was no one there to help me.'

Albus was confused. 'You mean you dreamt about coming home?' He asked. 'About hiding here, in our woods?'

'No,' Harry replied. 'Different woods. Our house wasn't there and you weren't there. No one was around for miles and miles. I was all alone and it was so cold.'

Albus was quiet for a moment.

'Sometimes,' he said softly, 'our dreams can get very confused. The past and present get all muddled-up, along with things we only imagine.'

'I know.' Harry sighed. He pulled away from Albus and rubbed at his eyes. 'It was all jumbled up in my dream. I wasn't even really sure where I was most of the time. I couldn't see the house at all.'

'The house?' Albus repeated.

Harry nodded. 'The house where I lived with my parents. I couldn't picture the room I was in or what I was doing. It was like I was just floating in a blank, empty space.'

'Well, you were only a baby,' Albus said reasonably. 'It makes sense that you wouldn't be able to remember it.'

'I suppose,' Harry agreed sadly. 'I wish I could remember something about what it was like though.'

Albus sat in silence for a little while, stroking at his shoulders.

'You were in your bedroom when it happened,' he told him. 'It was blue and there were stars on the walls and ceiling. Your mother decorated it for you.'

Harry looked up at him with surprise. 'I didn't know you were ever there.'

'I visited them a few times,' Albus told him. 'I can tell you some stories about them if you like.'

Harry considered for a moment. 'No, thank you,' he said. 'Not right now.'

He lay back and burrowed back down under the bedclothes.

'Why didn't you come get me?' He asked.

Albus frowned uncertainly. 'You mean ... after it happened?'

Harry nodded.

'I did come for you though,' Albus said earnestly. 'I sent someone to fetch you and then we both took you to your aunt and uncle's house.'

'But why?' Harry protested. 'Why didn't you just take me home with you.'

Albus sighed. 'You're forgetting that it was never my plan to take care of you. I can see why this confuses you. As far as you're concerned, this is something that was always meant to be, but neither of us knew that at the time.'

'I needed you though,' Harry mumbled. 'I needed you to come take me home.'

Albus smiled. 'You're very tired, Harry. I think you're mixing things up again.'

He straightened the duvet and tucked him in properly.

'Try and get some more sleep,' he told him. 'It's only a few hours until dawn.'

Harry nodded and lay quietly until his guardian had left the room and gone back downstairs. Then he sat up again and reached out to his bedside table. He clicked the light on and picked up the framed picture of his parents.

His mother and father smiled up at him from behind the glass, their faces frozen in matching expressions of everlasting joy. He tried to imagine them saying or doing something other than just standing there smiling, with their arms around each other but found it impossible.

He concentrated on the woman's pretty face, on the sparkle of her eyes and the dimples in her cheeks. He imagined her screaming as a shadowy figure bore down on her and his stomach lurched unpleasantly.

It wasn't real though. It was just something his frantic imagination had pieced together from books and films. Even the screaming couldn't actually be real. He couldn't possibly remember something like that, after all this time.

He wiped eyes again and returned the picture to the table. Then he rolled himself up in the duvet and squashed himself against the wall, determined to go right back to sleep as if everything was fine.

He left the light on though.


	8. Chapter 8

The day of Harry's eighth birthday dawned bright and clear, with no trace of the dreary rain that had filled the days before it. Harry woke just as the first light broke and then lay basking in the pure, white sunshine.

He was brimming with excitement, his fingers tingling and his toes twitching, but he knew he had to wait until a reasonable time before running downstairs.

Albus had been dropping hints for weeks that this was going to be an especially big birthday so Harry was looking forward to opening his presents even more than usual. He had an idea that he was going to be getting something really incredible.

He let himself fantasise for a while about what it might be. A new pet perhaps, an owl of his very own, or a trained rat, or a Burmese python.

He was distracted from this thoughts by the appearance of a real owl at his window. The bird flew in and dropped a large, square envelope into his lap.

This surprised Harry, as he almost never got mail, but he could tell from the shape and feel of the envelope that it contained a birthday card. He opened it up quickly, eager to find out who was writing to him.

It took Harry several minutes to decipher the writing inside the card, which was very small and curly, but eventually he managed to work which letters were which and read the message in its entirety.

 _Dear Harry,_

 _It was lovely to meet you last week. I hope it wasn't too dull for you spending time with us. Albus said that you had fun but I'm sure that he was just being polite. He told us your birthday was coming up and I just had to send you something. It's not everyday you turn eight, after all. I hope you have a truly amazing day._

 _Love from,  
Perenelle & Nicholas_

Harry was very touched. He had enjoyed meeting the Flamels and was happy to hear that they had liked him too. He had been worried that he had made a bad impression because he had been so nervous.

It had been so long since he had spoken to anyone other than Albus that he had almost forgotten how to do it. He was half-worried that when he finally tried to speak nothing would come out of his mouth but garbled nonsense.

Indeed, he had struggled to get out more than a few words at first, just murmuring 'yes, please' and 'no,thank you,' when it was required of him, but then then Albus had taken them out to the opera and after they had all sat through three hours of Faust together they had almost started to feel like old friends.

Perenelle whispered translations into Harry's ear throughout the performance and then chatted with him during the interval. She answered all his questions about her home and family back in France and even teased him a little, telling him that she was six-hundred and fifty years old, which was obviously impossible.

After the performance, Albus and Nicholas got into a spirited argument because Albus insisted that he still preferred the play by Marlowe. Nicholas said not no self-respecting music-lover would ever say such a thing and Albus replied that most Opera was completely overrated, kept afloat by snobs who only pretended to enjoy it. This debate went on for almost half an hour before the two old men finally agreed to let it go for another decade.

By this time Harry felt brave enough to ask Albus some questions about the story. Albus answered them all carefully while the Flamels listened on with interest. They seemed strangely impressed with Harry even though he obviously didn't know anything at all. Nicholas said he was very smart little boy with a proper appreciation for opera, unlike some people.

There was something else inside the envelope. Harry turned it upside down and shook until a small metal badge fell out onto the bed. Harry picked it up and discovered, with delight, that it was shaped like a long, tightly-coiled snake.

Harry pinned the badge on his jumper before heading downstairs. He skipped the last flight of stairs and slid right down the bannister and jumped off at the end.

'It's my birthday!' He sung out as he ran into the kitchen.

'I know!' Albus replied wryly. 'Happy birthday!'

He bent down to hug Harry and recoiled when he felt the metal pin digging into his chest.

'What's this?' He asked.

'It's my first present,' Harry said proudly. 'The Flamels sent it to me by owl. They sent me a card too, but I left that upstairs.'

'That was nice of them. You should write back to say thank you.'

'I will,' Harry promised and then turned his attention to the table, which was groaning with food, 'Can I start breakfast?'

'That's what it's there for,' Albus replied.

Harry grabbed himself a big stack of pancakes, with ice-cream and blueberries, and started wolfing them down.

Albus sat down and watched-on fondly as the eight-year-old boy gorged himself. He didn't touch anything himself. When Harry asked why, he said he just wasn't hungry yet.

As soon as Harry was done he started looking around expectantly.

'Where're my presents?' He asked.

'In the living room,' Albus replied, 'but don't go just yet. I want to talk to you first.'

Harry had already started up and had to sit back down hastily. He tried to sit still and appear attentive but his eyes kept drifting over to the door.

Albus sighed and shook his head.

'Never mind,' he said. 'I can tell you're not going to be able to concentrate until you've seen what you've got. Go and open your presents and then we'll talk.'

Harry grinned apologetically and then hurtled out of the kitchen. His presents were stacked up by the fireplace in a tall, glittering pile. He fell to his knees in front of it and started sifting through excitedly.

He could tell that several were hardback books, as usual, and decided to open those first, leaving the more interestingly-shaped presents for later.

He tore the paper off of the first one to reveal the puzzling title, 'A Children's History Of Magic.' He flicked through quickly to see what it was about and discovered that it was filled with fantasy stories about wizards, elves and goblins.

'This is nice,' Harry declared happily, before reaching for the next one.

'Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them,' was written like an encyclopaedia but was all about mythical creatures, like dragons and mermaids and fairies. Harry liked the look of the illustrations which were very detailed and beautiful.

The last book that Harry unwrapped was the strangest of the lot and he wasn't sure what to make of it. It was called, 'Fun & Diverting Potions for Beginners,' and was filled with detailed recipes for magic potions.

Unlike the other books, it didn't have any pictures and didn't seem like the sort of thing you would read for fun. He turned the pages slowly, frowning over the instructions, and tried to work out whether it was meant as some sort of joke.

He paused over a recipe for a 'Moonsflesh Potion,' which was supposed to make the drinker's skin glow in the dark for up to twenty-four hours. He ran his finger down the list of ingredients and was surprised to find that he recognised every one of them.

'Can we really make these?' He asked.

'Yes,' Albus replied. 'We can make them together.'

Harry turned the page and glanced over a recipe for a 'Hair-growth Potion.'

'They wouldn't work though,' Harry objected. 'Would they?'

'They might,' Albus replied, 'but only if you do everything right.'

Harry frowned up at the old man. He didn't like it when he teased him like that. He never knew how to respond.

He quickly opened up the rest of his presents and was a little disappointed to find that they were all themed items that were just for show. To go along with the books about magic, Albus had gotten him a large black cauldron, several glass bottles of potions ingredients and a sleek wooden broomstick.

'Is it all witch and wizard stuff?' He asked sadly.

'Yes,' Albus replied gravely, 'It is all wizard stuff.'

'It's all really nice,' Harry said quickly. 'It's just not what I was expecting.'

Not wanting to seem ungrateful he quickly picked up the broomstick and took a proper look at it. It looked like it was solid wood and was varnished to a fine shine.

'Is it for playing with?' He asked doubtfully, 'Or is it for decoration? It's very pretty.'

'Here,' Albus said, standing up suddenly. 'I'll show you what to do with it.'

Harry was surprised. Albus didn't usually play pretend games and Harry was getting a little too old for that type of thing anyway. He did as he was told though and stood still with the broom held out at arm's length.

'Okay,' Albus said softly, 'Now let go.'

Harry did as he was told. He expected the broom to drop down with a clatter but instead it hung suspended in the air, right where Harry had left it.

Harry gasped and then spluttered with laughter.

'How did you do that?' He demanded. 'Is it held up with strings?'

Albus grinned at him, eyes twinkling. 'Have a look,' he suggested.

Harry ran waves his hands through the air, feeling for invisible threads, but he couldn't feel anything. He put his hand back on the broom and pushed down on it. It resisted him for a second and then fell to the floor.

Harry laughed again. 'How?' He demanded. 'How did you get it to do that?'

'Magic,' Albus said simply.

'No, really!' Harry protested.

'Really,' Albus replied. 'I'm a wizard.'

Harry opened his mouth to argue and then what Albus had said hit him properly. A little shudder ran through his body. He glanced down at all the books, the cauldron and the broomstick.

'You mean ... it's all real?'

'Yes,' Albus replied. 'It's all real.'

Harry started at him in silence for a second or two and then he burst out laughing.

'I knew it! I always knew you were a wizard!' He gasped. 'You look just like one!'

He suddenly felt a little light-headed and sat down heavily upon the floor. Albus joined him, sitting down cross-legged on the other side of the broomstick.

'You're taking this well,' he commented.

'I just can't believe it,' Harry whispered. 'You really are a wizard? Really?'

'It must seem very strange,' Albus said gently. 'Is there anything you want to ask me?'

Harry glanced around vaguely and grabbed one of the books. He turned it over and over in his hands.

'Are you going to teach me magic too?' Harry asked. 'Are you going to train me to be a wizard like you?'

The thought was almost too wonderful to contemplate.

'Yes,' Albus replied. 'I'm going to teach you magic. You don't learn to become a wizard though, it's just something you are.' He cupped Harry's face in his hand. 'It's in your blood.'

Harry felt his face flush hot. 'What do you mean?' He asked.

'I mean you take after your parents,' he said. 'They were a very talented witch and wizard and you're sure to have inherited their powers.'

Harry gasped at him.

'Would you like me to prove it to you?' Albus suggested.

He reached into his pocket, pulled out a wand and murmured a spell, just like a wizard in a story. The tip of the wand started to shine like a torch. Albus waited a moment, allowing Harry to admire the light, and extinguished it again, with a single word.

Harry leant forward, fascinated. The wand looked just like a normal stick of wood, the sort of thing you could just snap off of a tree, but it was clearly very special.

'Where does the magic come from?' He asked. 'The wand or you?'

'A good question,' Albus said. 'The magic comes from the wizard but the wand helps to channel it.'

He turned the wand over in his hands so that the handle was facing towards Harry.

'Now you try,' he said. 'I'll show you how to do it.'

Harry hesitated. 'Are you sure?' He asked. 'What if I accidentally blow up the house or something?'

'It will be fine,' Albus assured him. 'As sure as you do exactly as I tell you.'

Albus wrapped his hand around Harry's, tightening his grip, and helped him lift the wand up into the right position. He whispered the spell into Harry's ear and Harry repeated it out-loud, his heart fluttering with excitement.

'Lumos.'

Instantly the tip of the wand began to glow. Harry laughed delightedly.

'Is it really me doing it though?' He asked, unable to believe it. 'Isn't it you?'

'Try it by yourself,' Albus suggested. 'I'll let go now.'

Harry found it a lot harder to cast the spell by himself. He had to repeat the word three times before it worked and the light that came out was far weaker than before.

'That's very good,' Albus assured him. 'Most wizards don't start casting spells until their first year of school. Young children are supposed to refrain from using magic until they are old enough to control it entirely.'

'Should I be doing this then?' Harry asked nervously.

'It's alright if you're with me,' Albus said dismissively. 'That's probably enough for now though.'

He held out his hand meaningfully and Harry returned his wand to him.

'Will you teach me more later?' He asked.

'Yes,' Albus replied, 'but for now, wouldn't you  
like to try flying?'

Harry's heart leapt and he looked down at the broomstick.

'You mean I can really fly on it?'

'Yes,' Albus replied. 'It's not a toy - it's a real racing broom. It's not a very fast one though. I didn't want to make it too easy for you to break your neck.'

He got up from the living room floor, picking up the broom with one hand and pulling Harry up with the other.

'Your father was an excellent flier. I'm sure you'll have inherited his instincts.'

He was right, of course.

Harry spent the rest of morning flying round the woods, pushing the broom to its limits and weaving in and out of the trees. It was the most wonderful feeling in the world.

He would have liked to keep going all day but he had to stop for lunch. By then, he had worked up quite an appetite anyway so he was looking forward to it.

Once Harry had blown out all the candles on his cake and cut himself a extra-large slice Albus sung him his special birthday song. This changed a little each year so Harry had to listen carefully to catch all the new lyrics.

 _Eight summers now have come and gone,_  
My darling, Harry James.  
So I'll sing for you your birthday song,  
And play your favourite games.

 _Another year's been swept away,_  
Into the sands of time,  
But I'm glad for you were born today,  
And glad that you are mine.

 _At seven you were growing strong,_  
Tall and tough and tanned,  
And when you leapt into the sky  
You never seemed to land.

 _I knew that it would not be long,_  
Until your powers could be claimed  
Wild magic that still runs so free,  
With patience can be tamed.

 _Your birthright is a set of wings,_  
Your kingdom is the sky,  
And I'm glad to give you both today,  
I'm glad to watch you fly.

 _Now you are eight you'll know at last,_  
Exactly who you are,  
You'll trace the journeys of the past,  
You'll see you've come so far.

 _Autumn is waiting round the door,_  
With winter at its side,  
But I'm glad for you were born today,  
And glad that you are mine.

Harry giggled his way through the song and then got up to give his guardian another hug. He felt so happy that he thought that his heart might burst open with it.

'I'd like to practice flying until the sun goes down,' He suggested instead. 'May I?'

'Of course you may,' Albus replied. 'I would let you fly later, but it wouldn't be safe in the dark.'

'I know,' Harry said reasonably, getting up and reaching for his broom. 'Will you leave out some cake for me? I might run and get some later.'

'I'll leave it all out,' Albus replied. 'I can put a spell on it so it doesn't go stale.'

Harry laughed. 'Magic really is amazing!' he declared before running out the door.

Later, once the light had faded and the day was almost done, Harry had some more questions for Albus. He was no longer certain of what was real and what was not. Now that magic existed, everything else had to be called into question as well.

'Is Father Christmas real?' He asked. 'Or the Easter Bunny? Or the Tooth Fairy?'

'No,' Albus replied. 'They're just made up stories to make growing up more exciting for little children.'

'How do you know?'

'Because I get all your Christmas presents for you and your Easter eggs too and I've never even pretended otherwise.'

'Yes, but what about other children?' Harry insisted. 'Do their parents buy all their Christmas presents and stuff too?'

'Yes,' Albus confirmed. 'But wizards don't usually tell their children stories stories about Father Christmas or the Tooth Fairy anyway. They have their own traditions, like turning baby teeth into pearls and then slowly adding them to a necklace or bracelet.'

'Oh, Ok,' Harry said, before moving on abruptly to, 'Is God real?'

Albus smiled and shook his head. 'I'm afraid I don't know. I don't think anyone knows for certain. It's a matter of faith.'

'Can't you find out using magic?'

'Well I could certainly try,' Albus declared gamely. 'The only difficulty is knowing where to start. If you have any suggestions about how to go about it I'd be happy to hear them.'

Harry, of course, did not.

'Was Joan of Arc really a witch?' He asked next.

'No,' Albus said smilingly. 'I don't think so. She certainly never claimed to work magic and no one ever saw her cast a spell or fire a curse.'

'Did they just accuse of being a witch because they wanted to get rid of her, then?'

'Yes,' Albus confirmed. 'I believe so. They certainly didn't have any evidence that would suggest she really was a witch. The only things she did which were unusual was claiming to speak to God and riding into battle with the soldiers, and these things wouldn't have even been that unusual if she'd been a man.'

'What about Queen Elizabeth the first?' Harry suggested. 'People used to say she was a witch, didn't they?'

'Yes, but people often used to say that about powerful women, just because they were powerful. People also used to accuse Elizabeth of secretly being a man simply because they thought no woman could rule as she did.'

'They said she caused a storm though,' Harry insisted eagerly, 'and sunk the Spanish Armada.'

'I think that's very unlikely,' Albus said. 'It would take a lot of magic to cause a storm like that. In any case, there's never been any evidence of magic in the royal bloodline. I think if a witch or wizard had ever become king or queen they would not have felt it necessary to hide their powers anymore.'

'What about Rasputin?' Harry suggested next. 'He claimed to have magical powers, didn't he? And he didn't die even when he was stabbed and poisoned and shot.'

'No, I don't think he was a wizard either,' Albus said. 'He never did anything that looked like real magic and even wizards can die if they are stabbed or shot.'

'How did he survive then?' Harry demanded.

'Well, I believe the story of his assassination has somewhat exaggerated,' Albus said, 'but it can take a man quite a while to die from a stab wound or poisoning and he can recover if he receives help.'

'Perhaps he was a vampire,' Harry suggested eagerly. (Vampires had only just been added to the list of things that were actually real after all and Harry was quite excited about that.) 'He looked like a vampire.'

'People are not things just because they look like them,' Albus told him.

Yes but - '

'I do not believe Rasputin was a vampire.' Albus said quickly. 'He did not exhibit any of the usual symptoms.'

Albus seemed to sense that Harry was about to go through a long list of historical figures because he quickly offered to get him a book about all the witches and wizards known to have lived.

'We're able to track back most wizarding families over eight centuries, at least.' He told Harry. 'So although there have always been new witches and wizards emerging, in non-magical families, we're able to tell quite reliably who had genuine magical powers and who did not.'

Harry was reasonably satisfied by this and stopped asking who had and who hadn't been a witch.

'Merlin was a real wizard,' Albus told him, 'but the stories that I told you about him were mostly made up. I'll get you a new book about him as well so you can learn what the true story behind the myths and legends.'

'I like Merlin,' Harry replied. 'I'm glad he was real.'

'He's one of the greatest wizards of all time,' Albus told him. 'That's why muggles know about him too.'

'Aren't you?' Harry asked.

Albus frowned. 'Aren't I what?'

'Aren't you the greatest wizard of all time?' Harry asked. 'I always assumed you were.'

'Well, you don't know any other wizards,' Albus said reasonably.

'That's true,' Harry agreed. 'I just always thought of you as this incredibly powerful person who could do practically anything.'

He shrugged. 'I suppose you're just like everyone else in the wizarding world though. I suppose you're just a weak, little nobody.'

'You're teasing me,' Albus said grinning. 'You know I am quite powerful. I've already told you so.'

'Yes,' Harry admitted. 'I know.'

He leant back on the sofa, grinning with self-satisfaction.

'I always used to think you were like Merlin,' He said. 'When you used to read to me from The Legends of King Arthur I always used to look at Arthur and Merlin and think that's you and that's me.'

He gave his guardian a cunning look.

'Is that why you used to read me that book?' He asked. 'Is it one of the stories you hoped would help prepare me for the truth?'

Albus let out a breath. 'You've grown so clever, haven't you?' He said sadly. 'I can't get anything past you now.'

'No,' Harry said happily. 'I understand everything now.'

When Harry finally went to bed that night he lay awake for a long time, his mind preoccupied with thoughts of the future. For the first time he felt as though he could see his whole life spread out before him, as clearly as if it was a book sat his lap, and every page was filled with joy and wonder.

He would go to Hogwarts and learn all there was to know about magic. He would become a master at potions, just as his mother had done and play on the Gryffindor quidditch team, just as his father had done. He would make good, loyal friends that understood him and when he eventually left school he would be a great wizard, just like Albus, and they would go on many adventures together.

Everything fit together perfectly, with no uncomfortable gaps.

Before he went to sleep Harry got up and plucked his battered old copy of The Legends of King Arthur from the shelf. He turned to the very start of the book, where there was a big picture of the young Arthur sitting beside Merlin in front of a roaring fire.

Just looking at the picture made Harry feel warm and soothed, as if the fire in the picture was real and casting heat upon his face.

Harry flicked through the book lazily, pausing on each of his favourite illustrations from Arthur's childhood.

On one page Merlin stood on the ground, his white hair and beard flying, while Arthur took flight into the sky, transformed into a bird.

On another, Arthur held Excalibur aloft, his fair face shining with joy. Merlin stood in the background, looking on with a knowing smile and a twinkle in his eyes.

The amount of joy that Harry felt was almost uncomfortable. It was a squirmy sensation in the pit of his stomach that made lying still incredibly hard.

'This is who I am,' he whispered. 'This is what my life will be like.'

He flicked through the rest of the book happily, increasing his speed as he passed over the latter part of Arthur's life. This was filled with epic battles with hundreds of knights on horseback and was obviously far less relevant.

He took a quick look at the last illustration in the book which showed Arthur mortally wounded, lying in a boat with his arms wrapped across his chest, before closing it shut and setting it to one side.

He just about felt tired enough to drift off to sleep now, so he lay back in the bed and turned the lights off.

His dreams would all be about flying and all the golden days of summer in which he would begin to learn magic.


	9. Chapter 9

_**This book is the property of**_  
 _ **Harry James Potter**_  
 _ **Apprentice Wizard**_

 _ **11th August 1988**_

 _I have just started learning magic but I think I am doing quite well. Today I brewed an Oraculus potion all by myself and it came out all thick and gold, just like it's supposed to. It's not a very powerful potion but it is quite difficult to make and a lot of fun to use. When you drink it your eyes start to change colour depending on your mood and Albus and I spent a lot of time trying to make each other laugh so we could watch our eyes turn yellow. The only problem was that we were having such a good time that we never got to see our eyes turn any other colours. Towards the end of the day Albus's eyes started to change from orange to blue, but I couldn't tell if that was because he was actually feeling sad or if it was just the potion wearing off._

 _ **13th August 1988**_

 _I'm trying to keep notes about everything I'm studying but I also want to write about how I'm feeling too because I've been so happy lately. I wake up every morning with a big, fat smile on my face and can't wait to get up and start the day. I never want to forget how wonderful it felt to find out that I was a wizard. I think it was a little like falling in love because it made me feel safe and special and like everything was going to be good from now on and forever and ever and ever._

 _ **14th August 1988**_

 _Today I found a new flower growing in the woods. I think it might be a Ghost Orchid, although they're supposed to be extinct. We have a lot of unusual plants growing in our woods. I think this is because there is so much magic around although not all the plants have magical properties._

 _I took a cutting from the flower so that I could add it to my book of plants. I had to use my gloves, just in case it was poisonous, but it turns out it's completely harmless. Albus was able to tell just from looking at it and then we found its entry in the encyclopaedia._

 _It's quite an interesting plant because it spends most of its time underground and only flowers once every ten years or so. I think I am a little like a Ghost Orchid because I am hidden away at the moment and no one knows I'm here, but when I turn eleven I'll be out in the world with everyone else. It's a little scary, but so exciting!_

 _ **19th August 1988**_

 _I'm getting really good at flying now. I practice for hours every day and I can do lots of tricky manoeuvres. Albus enchanted some tennis balls to go flying through the woods so I could chase after them but they were so slow and stupid that it was easy to catch them._

 _I've asked Albus if he can get hold of a real snitch for me, but he says it would be too dangerous. According to 'Quidditch for Beginners,' they can fly really fast, up to eighty miles per hour, but what really makes them difficult to catch is how they twist and loop around and change direction suddenly._

 _I can't wait to start playing Quidditch. It's probably the thing I'm looking forward to most about going away to school. It will be great to be part of a team and play together. I've never done that before and I know I'm going to love it._

 **21st August 1988**

 _Today I met up with First-Born again, for the first time since my birthday. She wasn't surprised to hear that I was a wizard, even though she's never met one before. She knows that normal people can't talk to snakes and so understood right away that I was special._

 _I think that snakes are especially attuned to magic. They're listed as one of the ten creatures most useful to magicians in 'Basic Principles of Magic,' but I don't know if that's because they can actually assist with spells or just because that their venom is useful in potion-making._

 _I brought First-Born a dead mouse to eat, as a special treat, because we got quite a lot in for potions ingredients, but there aren't that many simple potions that need them. I was secretly a little glad about this because I don't like skinning them or cutting them up. It's really disgusting._

 _I wanted to draw a picture of First-Born to add my observations notebook but I'm not that good at drawing animals so First-Born lay down on the page and let me draw around her instead. That meant I got the shape just right. I also measured her and found out she is now twenty inches long._

 _First-Born enjoyed the mouse and was happy to hear that she had grown. She told me snakes don't get together to celebrate birthdays but she was glad I had a good one. I told her I would celebrate her birthday with her if she liked but she had no idea what day it was on._

 _ **25th August 1988**_

 _I think even Albus is surprised by how much I'm reading at the moment. He doesn't complain, of course. He promised me that he'd order me as many books as I want, but there's pretty much one arriving every day now and he's stared to look worried._

 _Maybe he thinks I'm not clever enough to understand some of the magic I'm reading about or maybe he thinks I'll end up reading something that will upset me. I'm not quite sure, but there's definitely something up._

 _Today he gave me one of his crinkly-eyed anxious looks and said something like, 'You know there are some dangerous things in the magical world too, don't you?'_

 _'I know,' I told him. 'There's giants and dragons and trolls and ogres, but none of them live anywhere near here.'_

 _Albus started to say something else but then he changed his mind. That happens a lot. It's like there's always lots of thoughts buzzing around in his head and sometimes they make it out and sometimes they don't._

 **26th August 1988**

 _Albus started talking to me about dark magic today. He told me that there are some types of spells which are very dangerous and can hurt people. I already knew this though because dark magic is mentioned in a lot of the books I've been reading, although they don't go into a lot of detail._

 _I had the feeling that Albus wanted to talk to me about something more complicated but he wasn't sure how to do it. Perhaps he was waiting for me to ask the right questions. I'll try harder next time._

 ** _2nd September 1988_**

 _I feel so stupid. I don't want to write about my feelings anymore. I can't even bear to look at what I've already written. I thought I would want to read about my life over again and again, just to remind myself of how good it was, but now I just want to tear all these pages out._

 _I don't even understand how I could have missed it, how I could have blocked that one thing from my mind. Albus didn't bring it up, of course, but he's been watching me all this time and waiting for me to put the pieces together, but I didn't because I'm so stupid._

 _I felt so proud on my birthday too. Like I'd got it all worked out. I thought that I was really going to live happily ever after. As if life could be like some fairytale just because magic was real and that's stupid to start with because even fairytales have terrible, scary things in them._

 _If only I'd thought about it for five minutes I would have realised that Voldemort was a wizard too. I didn't even think about him though. I forgot all about him. I didn't think about my parents' death at all. I only thought about what they were like at school and how I was going to be just like them._

 _It's so unfair. I know it was stupid and didn't make sense but for little while I really believed I was going to live a perfect life. I was completely and utterly happy and I know I'll never ever ever feel that way again._


	10. Chapter 10

The day before they were supposed to leave for Hogwarts Albus announced that he was going to start packing up the house. Harry assumed he was speaking figuratively until he started systematically dismantling the kitchen around them. Harry barely had time to leap up out of his chair before Albus whisked it up and collapsed it down into a cardboard box.

'Surely we're not taking the furniture?!' Harry exclaimed with alarm.

'Oh no,' Albus said quickly. 'We wouldn't have anywhere to put it. You'll be going in the dormitories and I'll only have one small room.'

'Then why - ?' Harry gestured emphatically at Albus who was now disconnecting the stove.

'We need to leave the house as we found it,' Albus said simply.

'As we found it ... ?' Harry repeated. He strained his memory but could not recall the house ever being any other way. He certainly always remembered it having a stove.

'It was quite empty when we first came here,' Albus assured him. 'Old, abandoned and falling down.'

'Well then, can't we leave it a little better than we found it?' Harry said sharply.

Albus paused in the act of stippling off the wallpaper and considered. 'I suppose,' he said slowly, lowering his wand. 'It wouldn't do any harm.'

The wallpaper fell the floor in a long curl, like fresh apple peel, and Harry heaved a sigh of relief.

'Is there anything you want me to do?' He asked. 'I don't suppose I'll be able to help with the magic - '

'No, no, no,' Albus said quickly. 'Just pack up your clothes and your books and things for me. I've put a trunk outside your room.'

Harry did as he was told, trying not to linger too much over his old toys and notebooks. The trunk had been magically extended so he didn't need to worry about being selective; he just packed up everything as neatly as he could and then hurried back downstairs.

By that time Albus had already stripped most of the house. Harry found him standing in the middle of the living room, right where the coffee table used to be, looking around himself at all the empty space.

'I think that will do for now,' he said thoughtfully. 'Shall we take a tea break? There's still some things we ought to go over before we leave.'

'Alright,' Harry agreed.

The chairs were all gone of course, so they both had to sit down on the floor. Albus summoned two cups of tea from thin air and handed one over to Harry.

'You know that things will be very different at Hogwarts, don't you?' He said. 'I'll be headmaster and you'll be one of my students. We won't be able to behave as we have at home.'

Harry nodded and took a sip of his tea. 'I know. I'll have to live like all the other kids. Sleep in the dormitory. Eat at the house table.'

'Yes,' Albus said slowly, 'But it's not just that. You'll have to try to talk to me as the other students do.'

Harry frowned a little. 'What do you mean?'

'Well,' Albus began, 'When you're talking to me you should address me as 'Sir' or 'Professor, ' just like you would any other teacher.'

Harry started at him blankly.

'And if you're talking to another teacher about me you should refer to me as 'Professor Dumbledore,' Albus continued, 'but if you're talking to a classmate you can just call me 'Dumbledore.' Most of them do.'

Harry started to laugh. 'Are you joking?' He demanded. 'What will you call me? Mr Potter?'

'Oh no,' Albus said quickly. 'I'll always call you Harry, but that won't seem that unusual. Teachers can use first names if they wish.'

'What about when we're alone?' Harry demanded. 'I don't need to call you 'Professor' all the time, do I?'

'No,' Albus replied, 'but I think we should try and get into the habit. It might be difficult to remember otherwise.'

Harry rolled his eyes and lay back on the floor. 'Okay, professooor,' he said, drawing out the word.

He lay there in silence for a few minutes while Albus finished off his tea.

'I know you're happy to be going back, but will you miss living here?' Harry asked. 'Will you miss this house?'

Albus set his teacup down. 'I will,' he said softly. 'I love Hogwarts, of course, but this has been a home just for us. I've never had something like that before. Something private and domestic. Not since I was a child, anyway.'

Harry smiled to himself, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. There was a hole right above his head where the chandelier used to be.

'It's been nice to take some time off too,' Albus continued.

Harry snorted. 'Time off?' He repeated. 'You never took time off! You were writing letters every single day and you left for two weeks last month to sort that crisis in Paris!'

'I knew you were still annoyed about that,' Albus said grimly.

'You said you'd only be gone a day!'

'Well, you said you could take care of yourself,' Albus countered, 'and I came back to find the house full of snakes!'

'I got lonely!' Harry protested.

Albus chuckled. 'I know,' he said fondly, 'but it was a lot of trouble getting your friends to leave. The one in the toilet was especially stubborn.'

He got up and stood over Harry, peering down at his face.

'How are you feeling about moving?' He asked.

'I'm fine,' Harry said, swatting away Albus's beard.

'Is there anything you'll miss?' Albus asked. 'Other than the snakes, of course?'

Harry thought for a moment. 'The treehouse,' he said eventually. 'Although I suppose I'm too old for it now anyway.'

'Oh, I've packed that,' Albus said cheerfully.

'You haven't!' Harry exclaimed. 'Where on earth will you put it?'

'I'll find somewhere inside the forbidden forest,' Albus replied. 'You should be able to get to it without being attacked by anything too dangerous.'

Harry laughed. 'Thank you. I've always wanted a secret hideout surrounded by deadly monsters.'

Albus laughed too then he reached down, grabbed Harry by the wrists and swung him round playfully across the polished floorboards. Their mingled laughter echoed throughout the empty house.

They got up early the next morning and did one last sweep of the house to make sure they hadn't forgotten anything. The place seemed very white and bare now, like a carcass picked down to the bones. There was nothing of theirs left anywhere.

'Well then, shall we go?' Albus suggested. 'I've already sent our luggage through.'

'May I go up to the roof first?' Harry asked. 'I'd like to take one last look at everything.'

'Of course,' Albus replied. 'Take as long as you like.'

Harry spent a long time looking out over the gardens and woodlands, trying to fix the image in his mind, before climbing down again.

He found Albus in the living room, waiting by the fireplace with the jar of floo powder in his hand. The fireplace was the one of the few things in the house that was still intact and it looked just as it always had done, black tiles gleaming and a full fire blazing in the grate.

Albus smiled at him encouragingly. 'Are you ready?' He asked.

Harry nodded, a lump in his throat. 'Is what I'm wearing alright?' He asked.

Albus looked him up and down. 'Of course,' he said. 'Why wouldn't it be?'

'I thought maybe I ought to wear robes,' Harry replied. 'I'm surprised you're not.'

Albus shrugged. 'I suppose I've gotten used to used to dressing how I like. I'll start wearing full robes again when term starts.'

He held out his hand to Harry. Harry took it and for a moment they both stood perfectly still and then Albus threw the powder onto the flames, turning them green, and they walked through them together.

'Headmaster's Office, Hogwarts School,' Albus ordered.

The fire shifted around them and everything dissolved away in a wild, swirling rush. Harry closed his eyes and held his breath as his childhood home disappeared forever.  
..

They came out seconds later in a large, circular room with smooth stone walls. It was obviously a tower room but it was impossible to tell how high up it was. There was no furniture, but the walls were covered with portraits of old, serious-looking wizards.

There was also a large tabby cat curled up in front of the door, as if it was guarding it. It looked up as they entered, its yellow eyes bright and curious.

'We've got someone here waiting for us,' Harry said cheerfully.

Albus seemed greatly amused by this. Harry glanced at him suspiciously, wondering what the real joke was, then he turned back to the door and understood immediately. The cat was gone now and in its place there stood a rather severe-looking woman with a tight bun of hair and square glasses.

'Professor McGonagall!' Albus exclaimed. 'You really didn't have to sit up here and wait for me you know. I would have come and found you.'

The woman raised her eyebrows at him. 'I've been waiting for you for the last seven years, Dumbledore. A few hours more waiting in your office floor hardly makes any difference.'

Albus stepped neatly out of the fireplace, and Harry, who was still holding onto his hand, tagged along like a frightened six-year-old.

'It's good to see you, Professor,' Albus said warmly.

'You too,' Professor McGonagall replied, 'and —my goodness! This must be Harry!'

'That's right,' Albus said, beaming down at Harry. 'I'm sure you'd recognise him anywhere. He looks so much like his father.'

'Exactly like him,' Professor McGonagall agreed. 'Except for the eyes, of course. He has Lily's eyes. I'm sorry, Harry, you must be tired of hearing this.'

Harry shook his head quickly. 'No, not at all. It's lovely to hear.'

Professor McGonagall face softened noticeably. 'Your parents were two of my favourite students,' she said. 'So talented, so dedicated. It was a privilege to teach them.'

'Thank you so much for saying so,' Harry replied. 'I'm very pleased to meet you, professor.'

'Such lovely manners,' Professor McGonagall commented approvingly.

Harry blushed and shook his head.

'Manners are just what I was taught in place of adequate socialisation,' he joked. 'I'm afraid I don't have any social skills whatsoever, although I can recite a lot of sixteenth century poetry.'

McGonagall looked taken aback. She raised her eyebrows at Albus. 'He's grown very like you,' she said. It sounded like an accusation.

'An accident, I assure you,' Albus replied apologetically. 'Children are so prone to picking up bad habits. A surreal sense of humour is probably better than most.'

'Well I suppose the damage is done and nothing can be done about it now,' Professor McGonagall said grimly. 'Are you feeling up to meeting anyone else yet or do you want some time to settle in first?'

'We'll be down in a little while,' Albus promised. 'I just want to show Harry the view.'

Professor McGonagall's eyes slid over to the stain-glass window.

'Of course,' she murmured. 'That's the only disadvantage of travelling in by floo powder. You don't get a first glimpse of the place.'

'I wanted to fly here,' Harry told her, 'but Albus said it was too far.'

He realised too late that he had called Albus by his first name, but Professor McGonagall didn't seem to mind.

'You're a good flier then?' She asked.

'I think so,' Harry said modestly. 'I've never flown with anyone else though.

'He's very talented,' Albus insisted. 'I'd say he flies even better than his father. Just you wait until you see him.'

'I look forward to it,' Professor McGonagall replied. 'I really hope you'll be a Gryffindor, Harry. We desperately need some talent for our team.'

Harry assured her that of course he would be a Gryffindor, which seemed to amuse her. Then she left them alone and he and Albus went over to the window.

They stood together in silence for several minutes, looking out at the grounds, then Albus asked, 'Well, what do you think?'

'There's a lot of it,' Harry said breathlessly. 'The forest looks huge.'

'It is,' Albus agreed. 'Although it was far larger when Hogwarts was first built. Over the years witches and wizards have cut back a lot of it, which is a great shame.'

'It looks ... a lot like home,' Harry said slowly. 'Only bigger.' He felt himself go red. 'That's not an coincidence is it?'

'No,' Albus replied. 'It's not. I couldn't resist reshaping the countryside to suit my tastes. I hope it's a pleasant surprise.'

'It is,' Harry assured him.

The next few hours passed very quickly. Harry was rapidly introduced to the majority of the teachers, all of whom seemed utterly delighted to meet him, and then Albus took him on a quick tour of the castle.

'It's impossible to show you everything in one day,' he said regretfully, 'but I can definitely give you the highlights.'

Harry quickly formed the opinion that the things Albus Dumbledore considered highlights were probably not thought so by anyone else, but the stories that accompanied them were all very funny though so Harry did not resent being given an unconventional introduction to Hogwarts. The only thing that worried him was how large the castle appeared to be and how many twists and turns were in its corridors.

'I'm bound to get lost in here,' He said nervously.

'Oh yes,' Albus agreed. 'You'll get lost the second I let you out of my sight, but that's nothing to be afraid of. After all, ending up where you meant to go is always quite dull. It's much more exciting to end up somewhere completely unexpected.'

'What about finding my way out of that exciting, unexpected place?' Harry countered. 'It seems like Hogwarts has a lot of places to get trapped. I don't want to end up starving to death in some mysterious cupboard that only appears every other Tuesday.'

'Oh, that hardly ever happens,' Albus said brightly. 'It's been over fifty years since a student actually died and that was no accident, that was just plain murder.'

'I feel very reassured,' Harry said sarcastically. 'What about that story you literally just told me five minutes ago about the professor who disappeared for two weeks because he got trapped in an enchanted teapot.'

'Yes, but he didn't starve, did he?' Albus said.

'Only because he was surrounded by tea!' Harry protested. 'I don't want to end up anywhere I have to eat my way out of.'

'I promise that I will never let you get trapped in a teapot,' Albus said solemnly. 'Anyway, people always turn up. That's what I say every time someone goes missing. They always turn up eventually.'

Harry decided to let the subject drop then, if only because he didn't think he could cope with any more of Albus's attempts to reassure him.

Albus was just showing Harry an especially ugly painting of trolls attempting to perform ballet when they were approached by a tall, dark man with greasy black hair.

When Harry turned to face him he actually recoiled a little, in shock. Like many of the other teachers he seemed to recognise Harry immediately, but unlike the others he didn't look a bit happy to see him.

'Ah Severus,' Albus said brightly. 'It's good to see you.'

He put an arm around Harry's shoulders and nodded down at him. 'This is Harry,' he said. 'Harry, this is Professor Severus Snape.'

Harry held out his hand and smiled politely. 'It's nice to meet you, Professor,' he said.

Snape stared at Harry's hand as if it was something dead and slimy so Harry drew it back hastily.

'Sorry, is that not done?' He said. 'I'm still new to this. Meeting people, I mean.'

Several of the other teachers had shaken his hand and appeared eager to do so but he supposed that was because he was famous. It was unlikely they greeted every student so warmly.

Professor Snape certainly wasn't about to give Harry a warm reception. He glared over his head at Albus, ignoring him entirely.

'What's he doing here?' He demanded.

Albus appeared puzzled. 'Harry will be starting school this year,' he said simply. 'You know that, don't you?'

'Of course,' Snape snapped, 'but what's he doing here now? Why isn't he arriving with all the other students?'

'Well, he's with me,' Albus replied.

If Professor Snape was expecting any further explanation than he was sorely disappointed. Albus just stood smiling pleasantly while the other man glared at him.

'Where's he even staying?' Snape demanded.

'I thought he could go in the Gryffindor dormitory,' Albus said. 'It's empty now, of course, but he'll be fine by himself.'

'Don't you think that's a little premature?' Snape hissed. 'You can't know for certain that he's going to be a Gryffindor.'

'I could get sorted now,' Harry suggested helpfully, 'then we'll know for certain.'

Snape gave him a cold look. 'Sorting is always done on the first day of term in front of the whole school. I would have thought Professor Dumbledore had told you that already.'

His eyes flickered back to Albus and they seemed to grow even colder.

'Of course, if you think it's worth breaking over nine hundreds years of tradition for your own convenience then please, be my guest.'

'Oh no,' Harry said quickly. 'I wasn't saying that. I didn't realise.'

'Well, perhaps Harry could stay in the Slytherin dormitory,' Albus suggested, 'and then you could keep an eye on him.'

Snape looked appalled.

'I know you've been away from Hogwarts for a long time Dumbledore, but surely you must remember that the location of each house common room and dormitory is supposed to be a secret from the rest of the school.'

'Oh yes, of course,' Albus said nodding. 'Well, I'm sure I can find a suitable room somewhere. It's only for a few weeks, after all.'

Snape was silent for a moment. He looked as though he was struggling to find something else to complain about but failing to do so.

'Well you must do what you think is best headmaster,' he said quietly. 'You always do.'

Then he turned on his heel and walked away without another word. Harry waited until he was gone before turning to Albus and pulling a face. Albus smiled at him and shook his head.

'I'm sorry about that,' he said. 'People can be very rude when they're caught off-guard. He obviously didn't expect to find you here.'

'He seemed furious about it,' Harry replied. 'I though he was going to insist on having me thrown out.'

'Luckily, he does not have that authority,' Albus replied. 'A point which he himself seemed keen to emphasise.'

Then Albus's expression cleared and he began to speak brightly once more, keen to resume his tour of Hogwarts's unappreciated wonders.

'Come on,' he said. 'There's a hidden tunnel I want to show you that runs right under the school. It doesn't actually go anywhere, just loops around, but it's filled with hundreds and hundreds of lost socks. I think there's a creature living in there somewhere who keeps stealing them from the students, but I've never been able to catch him at it.'


End file.
